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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24063379">Empire of Angels</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lailannajacobs/pseuds/lailannajacobs'>lailannajacobs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dumb Luck [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:01:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,391</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24063379</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lailannajacobs/pseuds/lailannajacobs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Amelie Novak left New York, hoping to escape a breakup and to find a killer story in Boston. When her boss sets her out on what could be the biggest story of her career, she begins to realize that she might have meant 'killer' literally.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dumb Luck [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735750</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Killer Story</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story plays out a little bit like a mystery so, although some of the facts are the same as in the MCU, there are some different ones in this AU. Essentially, it's loosely based on it. Hope you enjoy! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I need someone to go after ex-sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. You ever heard of him, Novak?”</p><p>Amelie nodded, but her boss Cary, kept going as if she hadn’t. Typical. It wasn’t like he took her any more seriously than an intern.</p><p>“He’s ex-military. Defected five years ago and has been working as a hitman ever since. I’m sure you must have heard of him. If the cops are right, then he’s to blame for over a dozen high profile kills since. I got a source telling me he’s in Boston, ‘bout to hit his next target. I want you to find him and get me killer story before anyone else even thinks about it. And before you say a thing, I know you’re a reporter, not a cop. But this could be huge for the Globe and I need someone on this.”</p><p>Like hell she would say anything. Cary was finally giving her a real story. When Amelie had moved - more precisely, run away - to Boston looking for a change, she hadn’t expected to get sidelined. She was a damned good reporter and everyone at the Times knew she was good at her job. So like hell she’d say a thing and ruin her chance at proving to her new employer that she was the best he had.</p><p>“Do you know who the intended target is?” She kept her voice clipped, professional like his favourite boys did.</p><p>Cary shook his head, “My source wouldn’t say. But I need to know you’re okay with this, Novak. He’s dangerous and cunning, practically a ghost. I don’t want you walking into this expecting peaches and roses like the rest of the stories you cover.”</p><p>Amelie almost mentioned that the reason all her other stories had been peaches and roses was because he wouldn’t let her cover anything hard hitting, but nodded instead, afraid to look anything other than absolutely capable.</p><p>“It’s no problem. This will be my number one priority. I won’t let you down,” She promised with conviction.</p><p>With a curt nod, he waved her out of the office, apparently satisfied. Amelie could barely contain her excitement, and purposefully slowed her walk toward the conference room door. Her curiosity got the best of her before she could walk out.</p><p>Glancing over her shoulder as nonchalantly as possible, she asked, “Why me?”</p><p>He kept his gaze on the papers he was now leafing through, “They told me when I hired you, that your biggest asset as a reporter is that you’re constantly being underestimated. I figured the best way to get to him was to send someone like you,” He paused and looked up at her, “Am I wrong?”</p><p>She shook her head.</p><p>“Didn’t think so. Now get to it, Novak. Somehow I doubt he’ll be here for long.”</p><p>Amelie left the conference room, unable to wipe the smile from her lips, ignoring the curious looks from her coworkers.</p><p> </p><p>Staring at the computer screen, Amelie finally understood why Cary had sent her after such an important and dangerous story. The dozens of articles she had found on Barnes made it clear that this story Cary wanted her to cover wasn’t something he expected her to succeed at. He didn’t expect anyone to find Barnes at all and hadn’t been about to waste one of his better employees on a fruitless task. She didn’t care. Cary had finally given her a story worth covering and she was sure as hell going to get it done, even if her first thought had been that the police, FBI or even a PI would have been better suited for the job. There was no way she’d turn the job down now. Not when there was no way she could lose. If she got the story, she’d be bringing in one of the biggest stories the Globe had seen in years. If she failed, well, no one expected her to succeed anyways.</p><p>Her research on Barnes - otherwise known as the Winter Soldier - had led her to two conclusions. He was extremely dangerous, and he was extremely talented at what he did. And what he did, was take out criminals before anyone even knew that’s what they were. The hit would lead to an investigation, which would then lead to the exposure of skeletons no one knew were hiding in the deceased’s closet. His MO didn’t make any of his vigilante kills any less of a crime, it only meant that getting the story before anyone else would be huge for her and probably save a life in the process. All Amelie had to do was find the scumbag Barnes was targeting before her little hitman found him first.</p><p>Get a story, save a life, put an asshat in jail, get promoted. All in that order. That simple.</p><p>The problem - the biggest one at the moment - was that no one was able to figure out who Barnes’ next target would be before the body dropped. The deaths appeared random, but she knew it couldn’t be. Anyone who worked as meticulously as the Winter Soldier did had to have a process. Figuring it out would be the key to her success.</p><p>Amelie had reached out to other reporters across the country, including an old friend from the Times who had covered the deaths accredited to Barnes, but all anyone could say was that he was ghost.</p><p>So, the other major problem was finding him.</p><p>But that’s where she came in.</p><p>Finding people was something she had always been good at. Although she had never figured out how exactly, Amelie had an uncanny ability to be at the right place at the right time. Trusting that gut feeling had never steered her wrong in the past, and she wasn’t about to doubt it now. Any reporter could follow up on a lead and dig up dirt. But not every reporter had her instincts. Amelie had to believe that it was what was going to put her ahead of the dozen or so journalists who had gone up against the Winter Soldier in the past.</p><p>Her printer spat out a photo of the sergeant’s military ID, the most recent photograph she could find of him. She didn’t doubt he looked nothing like the picture. The cropped dark hair and clean-shaven face were probably long gone, and she had to assume that, like the security cameras unable to get a clear image of him, she wouldn’t recognize the man from the picture. The only saving grace was that she had never seen ocean coloured eyes so striking, even on a low quality, home printed scrap piece of paper. She figured she’d recognize them if - when - she met his gaze.</p><p>The military uniform and crooked grin seemed at odds with the infamous hitman she was hunting, but Amelie knew that dangerous men came in all shapes and sizes. The facts were that this man had killed almost a dozen high profile businessmen and politicians in the past five years and that each hit was in a largely public area, creating mass chaos, which was, if she had to guess, his escape route.</p><p>Scoping out Boston’s most popular public areas was where she would start. Tomorrow. She wouldn’t be able to find him running on half a muffin she’d had for supper and little to no sleep. Resting and getting her things in order was her priority. Tomorrow it would be the Winter Soldier.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Perky Journalist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Empire of Angels | Chapter Two</p><p> </p><p>Amelie wandered through Quincy Market among families decked out in Celtic’s green, ready for the night’s big game against the Raptors. The town square was alive with laughter and shouting, one of the last warm, autumn days brightening everyone’s mood. She let herself get stopped by tourists asking for directions, wandered into a coffee shop and popped into gift shops, looking to send her New York friends and family a little sign that she was adapting to just fine. No one had really understood her move from the New York Times to the Boston Globe, but then again, none of them had dated Brian for as long as she had. The only exception had wished her well and sent her off with an understanding smile. One of these trinkets was for them.</p><p>Every ball cap in sight caught her attention, though none hid incredible blue eyes under the lid. It was a gamble on her part to assume that he’d be wearing one, but the best way to get through a crowd, antsy for tonight’s game, was to blend in. And judging by the amount of ball caps in her five-foot radius alone, the odds were in her favour that she’d find him under one. Her instincts had gotten her this far. She wasn’t about to start doubting them during what was probably the most important story of her career.</p><p>Before she could decide where to wander to next, she was thrown to the ground, pain searing through her wrists. Where the hell that basketball had come from was beyond her, and she pushed herself back up, wincing as the assailant rolled away.</p><p>“I’m so sorry miss, are you all right?”</p><p>Amelie took in a deep breath and forced a cheery laugh, “I’m fine. Happens to the best of us. Let’s just hope none of that happens to our team tonight, right?”</p><p>The washed-out looking man in a stretched thin jersey picked up the ball and handed it back to his son. The man smiled, most likely pleased by her kind smile, cheery attitude and the fact that she wasn’t chewing his son out for his pathetic aim. They always were. Nice was usually seen as a weakness. Nice was never looked at twice. But underestimated and forgotten were some of the reason Amelie was able to do her job so well.</p><p>He finished with another apology and a slightly creepy wink before whisking his son away. She wanted to roll her eyes but kept her well practice act in place, keeping her gaze trained on them as they wandered through the crowd. That was when she spotted someone far more important behind them. The cap, which was what had immediately caught her attention, was a dumb choice on his part. The navy colour only brought out his eyes, which had made him that much easier to spot.</p><p>Amelie grinned.</p><p>It was time to pay her little hitman a visit.</p><p>She wove through the crowd with purpose, keeping an eye on her target. Stalking him wouldn’t do any good. She could do that later if need be. Right now, he was probably hyper aware of people trying to tail him, and less wary of people actually trying to talk to him. The latter was exactly what she planned on doing.</p><p>Amelie knew she shouldn’t have been feeling anything other than fear, but this was what she had come to Boston for. A fresh start and a killer story. All she could feel was the adrenaline coursing through her veins, her senses coming alive. It didn’t matter that she was tailing an accomplished hitman. She was damn good at her job. She could do this.</p><p>When she got close enough, she tapped on his shoulder, “Hi! I’m a reporter from the Globe’s sports section and we’re conducting a survey to see who’s watching the game tonight and where. Mind if I ask you a couple questions?”</p><p>He turned around, brows furrowed, and eyes narrowed as if surprised to have been spotted in the first place.</p><p>“No,” He answered gruffly, striding off.</p><p>Amelie hurried after him, “Technically no means you don’t mind!”</p><p>He kept walking.</p><p>“Please,” She begged, “I’m never going to be taken seriously if I can’t even get this silly task done. I, like, really, really, really want to be promoted to fashion. I’m sooo done with sports. Please, can you just answer this one tiny little question for me?”</p><p>He sighed, but thankfully stopped, “If you want to be taken seriously then lose the ditsy attitude.”</p><p>Rude.</p><p>“I’m asking you a question, not asking you to act like an as-” She cut herself off, cursing the slip in her act. She was better than that.</p><p>“That’s better,” He smirked, “You get one question.”</p><p>Amelie couldn’t roll her eyes at him, no matter how much she wanted to. The last thing she needed was an attitude that drew attention to herself or flagged her as threatening or even suspicious. He had asked her to drop the ditsy attitude, but that was the last thing she intended on doing. A cheery woman, somehow stuck doing an article for the sports section was exactly who she would be because that was the woman her hitman wouldn’t have a second thought about after they parted ways.</p><p>“If you’re watching the game tonight, are you watching at the Garden, at a bar, or at home?”</p><p>His face was the perfect image of boredom. Amelie couldn’t help but wonder if he practiced it in the mirror every morning.</p><p>“I see why you don’t want to keep asking these questions.”</p><p>“I’m glad you agree,” She answered dryly, unable to help herself.</p><p>He kept his blue eyes solely on her, which meant he wasn’t looking out for someone else. He obviously didn’t want to be here answering questions - the way he kept all his weight on his toes made Amelie think he was going to take off at any second - but he didn’t appear to be in a rush to get somewhere else either. Whoever his target was, he or she wasn’t here. Either that meant that her hitman had been fed false information or he was scouting a location rather than looking for a person in particular. Amelie had to bet on the former. It wasn’t much of a clue, but it was something.</p><p>“Let me guess,” She returned to the perky act, hoping she could get a solid answer out of him this time, “You seem like the kind of guy who would go to a bar to watch the game.”</p><p>He narrowed his eyes and her stomached knotted. This wasn’t how she wanted him to be looking at her. Amelie leaned even further into the act, widening her smile. She couldn’t slip up when she was so close to an answer.</p><p>He sighed. If he had been suspicious, he had quickly dismissed her as a threat, “Is that your way of trying to prove your journalistic instincts?”</p><p>“Is that your way of evading the question?” She countered.</p><p>“Maybe,” He smirked, a dangerous quirk of his mouth that sent her pulse racing, “How about you?”</p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p>Amelie held that piercing blue gaze, refusing to be the one to back down first. Arching a brow in a silent challenge, she waited with her arms crossed over her chest.</p><p>“Yes,” He conceded, “I’ll be watching in a bar tonight.”</p><p>She let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you! See, was that so hard?”</p><p>He snorted and walked off without another word.</p><p>“Have a nice day!” He called after him with fake chipper, muttering asshole beneath her breath.</p><p>Barnes didn’t turn around - not that she expected him to - and she watched him go until he was out of sigh. Hopefully, she was already out of his mind.</p><p>The game didn’t start for another couple hours, which gave her time to figure out which bars were playing the game tonight. Amelie had been disappointed when he hadn’t said he’d be watching the game at the Garden. A stadium was a hell of a lot easier to canvas than all the bars in Boston. She couldn’t even be certain that he was telling the truth - odds were that he wasn’t. Fortunately, Amelie’s gut feeling told her the opposite. Rude hitman didn’t necessarily mean liar.</p><p>Another sigh escaped her lips, the adrenaline wearing off. It had been risky giving herself away, but she banked on the fact that not many people, especially someone to small compared to him, would knowingly approach a wanted hitman. She had incorporated as much truth into her lie to make it as credible as possible and just had to hope that he wouldn’t check up on her.</p><p>The thought should have scared her, but it didn’t. Barnes was nothing like the articles described him as, and quite frankly, the only adjectives she would have used to described him were grumpy and rude. The man she’d just met was nothing like the terror described in the other articles. She didn’t know if her reaction made her stupid or brave. Maybe it was neither considering that no-one else had actually gotten close to him.</p><p>Not wanting to tail him all afternoon and most likely alert him to her presence, she decided to go home and get some more research done. It wasn’t going to be easy trying to find him tonight, but Amelie had always considered herself as someone who was lucky. She could get Barnes, but she was also going to need a little luck on her side tonight.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Chance Encounter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Amelie had tried five different bars before finally finding him in a pub known for its connection with the Irish Mob. Her feet were sore, someone had spilt a drink on her lap at bar number two when the Celtics had scored, and it had taken an extra fifty just to convince the bouncer to let her in, but it was worth it.</p><p>She’d found him.</p><p>Finally.</p><p>The whole process of trying to find him had taken up so much of her energy that she’d forgotten to actually plan what she wanted to do when he found him. Not wanting to do something stupid, she did nothing. She’d somehow found a seat at the bar, despite the packed Friday night crowd, close enough so that she could see him but far enough away not to attract any unwanted attention. The pub was just as noisy as every other place she’d been at, drunken cheers and insults being shouted at the televisions sporadically. Amelie ordered another beer, still not sure what to do. Without a gut feeling to tell her what to do, she sipped away, keeping tabs on him from time to time. That was, until he wasn’t there anymore.</p><p>Cursing herself for being so sloppy, she downed the beer and pushed off the seat, only to run into a broad chest in a red henley and a dark leather jacket. She didn’t have to tilt her head back to know she was face to face - face to chest? - with the exact mad she was looking for. His narrowed eyes probably meant that their running into each other wasn’t accidental or a good thing.</p><p>She smiled.</p><p>He dipped his head, breath hot on her ear when he growled, “Sit down.”</p><p>Her eyes widened in the nonexistent fear she should have felt and followed his order while he slid into the free seat on her right. Barnes ordered a drink, not saying anything as they waited for the barman to come back with his beer. He probably hoped to ramp up her supposed fear by letting her stew, but it only succeeded in giving her time to think of a way out without killing her chance at getting this story. She had to give him credit though. She figured most people would have been afraid. But he had no idea that she wasn’t most people. </p><p>“Who are you?” He demanded after the bartender had moved on.</p><p>“Oh! Right! You didn’t get my name earlier. I promise I’m not stalking you or anything, it’s purely personal,” Amelie could tell the sweetness in her voice had thrown him off guard, so she continued, laying it on even thicker, “It’s not every day I get to interview someone so… handsome, you know. I just thought that if I can into you tonight then-”</p><p>“Who are you?” He repeated, cutting her off with a cold look.</p><p>Obviously, manners weren’t his thing.</p><p>She forced a giggle even if it was getting harder to keep up the charade. What she wanted to do was shake him and tell him that manners were for everyone, including international hitmen, but she looked away for a second as if embarrassed.</p><p>She extended her hand, “Amelie Novak.”</p><p>He looked at it as though it might bite him, but he summoned all of his dangerous, brooding bravery and took it, “I wasn’t expecting such a firm grip.”</p><p>She shot him a pointed look, filling in the unspoken words, “From someone so ditzy?”</p><p>Amelie couldn’t help it. His condescending attitude made it impossible not to want to answer in the same tone. She needed to get her act together. Now. In the last five years, she had never broken character on the job, and now, she had twice in the same day. She reminded herself what was on the line if she slipped up and shot him another smile.</p><p>He let out something that might have been a laugh, if hitmen did indeed laugh. Judging by the looks of him, it wasn’t something he did all that often. At least no in from of other people. Or ever.</p><p>He stood, “I’m flattered by your…interest, but I have to go. If you’re lucky, some overgrown frat boy will come in a take my place. Seems more your type anyway, sweetheart.”</p><p>Amelie smiled through gritted teeth, holding it in place until he was no longer looking at her.</p><p>“I tried that,” She muttered when he was too far to hear, thinking of Brian, “Didn’t work out.”</p><p>Ordering another drink, she followed him out with her eyes, waiting to see what he would do next. After having seen her twice in the same day, she couldn’t tail him. There was nothing left for her to do. Or at least, that’s what she thought before realizing that he was following someone else out of the bar; someone Amelie very much recognized. And if that man was her hitman’s target, then all she had to do was find that man’s dirty little secrets. Fast.</p><p>She pulled out her phone. There was only one person she could count on to get the kind of information she needed and who could get it to her before the night was over.</p><p> </p><p>**</p><p>“What do you got for me?” Amelie perched on the corner of Detective Sam Wilson’s desk and flicked the Paul Pierce bobble head.</p><p>He barely spared her a glance, focused on the document on his computer screen, “Nice to see you too, Novak.”</p><p>She sighed, “Come on, Wilson, you know I’m not one for pleasantries.”</p><p>“You were when we first met,” He pointed out, typing away.</p><p>“That was when I thought I could get something from you that way,” She grinned, “Turns out you were a lot less gullible than I thought.”</p><p>He pushed back from his desk, chair rolling far enough that he could extend his legs, “I should’ve encouraged manners. A simple how are you would have been nice.”</p><p>“Fine, fine,” She rolled her eyes, “How are you, Wilson? How was your day?”</p><p>“I’m fine, Novak,” He smirked, “How are you?”</p><p>“Hoping to be better once I hear what you’ve got.”</p><p>He crossed his arms, “What made you start looking into this guy anyways?”</p><p>There was no need to tell him that she’d just gone toe to toe with an international hitman, so she simply said, “I got a hunch.”</p><p>He raised a brow, “A hunch, huh?”</p><p>“Yeah,” She nodded, knowing he was too good a cop for her to risk lying even more to him, “A hunch.”</p><p>“You should have been a detective, Novak,” He chuckled, “I think you missed your calling.”</p><p>She laughed, “I never could have passed those physical tests. But I’m assuming that you found something if you’re telling me this?”</p><p>He nodded, eyes bright.</p><p>She leaned forward, “What is it?”</p><p>“Oh, you know, police business.”</p><p>She nodded, “Of course, police business.”</p><p>“I’m going to the bathroom. My computer’s been having trouble lately and won’t seem to shut off,” He winked, standing, “You’ll be gone when I’m back.”</p><p>“Yup.”</p><p>He put a hand on her shoulder, “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, Novak.”</p><p>“No problem, Wilson, I understand,” She grinned and whispered, “Thank you. I owe you. Next time I’ll come bearing coffee.”</p><p>He pulled back, “It better be one of those fancy coffees.”</p><p>“Obviously,” She hopped off his desk, watching him leave.</p><p>“With cinnamon,” He called over his shoulder.</p><p>Amelie bounced onto Sam’s chair and stared at the document he’d left open. Her excitement built as the words for her article began to string themselves together in her mind.</p><p> </p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>The article had gone viral. Hers. Amelie Novak’s. Cary, after having cursed her out for banging on his home door at midnight, actually smiled after reading it. It had managed to get enough press that even her friends in New York had heard about it. Thinking about it still made her giddy, even days later. God, she loved her job.</p><p>The man, a corrupt CEO working with the Irish Mob, had been placed in protective custody, despite his white-collar crimes. Putting him in jail was too dangerous, a prison too flimsy for a good hitman.</p><p>Amelie probably should have felt better about having saved a life, but it was hard to feel proud when the made she’d save was a grade A scumbag. Among other crimes, he’d stolen from hundreds of families in the area and hurt so many other people through his connections with the Mob and those were only the crimes Wilson had been able to dig up overnight. Since then, other crimes had surfaced and all her articles since then had been recaps of the cops’ investigation.</p><p>Fumbling with her keys, her grip slipped on her grocery bags and she scrambled to get into her apartment without dropping anything. The place was dark, the late evening light gone long before she had left the office and the city lights barely poking thought the cracks between the adjacent buildings.</p><p>The light switch was too high to reach with the weight of the five-pound sack of potatoes in one hand and the jug of milk in the other, so she wandered blindly into the kitchen of her new studio apartment.</p><p>“I’d have to say, I’m impressed.”</p><p>Amelie shrieked, almost dropping the bags again. Her heart pounding her chest as if it was begging her to leave, but she didn’t move or turn on the lights. She didn’t need to. Amelie recognized the voice.</p><p>Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, professional hitman, the Winter Soldier himself, was in her kitchen, and he was most definitely trespassing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Surprise Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“As soon as that article came out, I knew it had to be you, Amelie Novak,” He paused as if tasting her name on his lips, “But I’ll admit I hadn’t suspected a thing before that.”</p><p>“That was the point,” She told the darkness, her voice bold and unyielding.</p><p>But Amelie didn’t move. Not because she was afraid to but because sight wasn’t an option and she needed complete silence to know if <em>he</em> moved. If he did, she needed to do the same. Not that she could delude herself into thinking that she could ever evade him.</p><p>What she should have done was turn on the lights, but for some reason she felt more confident in the dark. With the lights on, there was no denying how far out of her league she was, and she needed all the confidence she could get.</p><p>When he stayed silent, she said, “I’m sorry you lost your target,” and tried to ignore the small part of her that actually meant it. Every life was worth saving, even the lives of corrupt CEOs who had ruined countless others.</p><p>“Are you?” He countered, sounding genuinely curious, “And who says I lost him?”</p><p>“He’s not dead,” She pointed out.</p><p>“Yet.”</p><p>The word sent shivers down her spine and she knew this was a promise he intended on keeping rather than a threat. He wasn’t the kind of man who broke promises, that much was obvious. Especially not ones that would probably earn him a substantial amount of cash.</p><p>“If you hiding in my kitchen in the dark wasn’t creepy before, it sure is now,” Amelie said, focusing on the feeling of the plastic grocery bag cutting off the circulation in her fingers to keep her voice steady, “You know you’re trespassing, right?”</p><p>“You going to call the cops?” He asked, letting go of a little breath that might have been a laugh.</p><p>Annoyed, she said, “I could.”</p><p>The whisper of a sound meant that he was moving, but she had no idea where he was going. Amelie almost took a step toward the fridge before realizing that would only box her in, so she opted on staying still. If he hadn’t done anything yet, she doubted he would now. It was the only reason why she wasn’t worried. Yet.</p><p>“But you won’t,” His voice didn’t sound any closer than before, making her think she had imagined it.</p><p>“No,” She amended, surprising herself with her honesty, “I won’t call them.”</p><p>He paused, “Why?”</p><p>“One; because I’m sure I can get you to leave on my own,” She readjusted the grip on the grocery bags, wondering if she could set the on the floor because her arms were beginning to hurt, “And two; I think you’re arrogant, impolite and rude and quite frankly there’s nothing the cops can do about any of those things, so why call them?”</p><p>“Really?” He drawled.</p><p>Amelie grinned, not caring the he couldn’t see it, “No. I just thought you should know how I really feel about you.”</p><p>He sighed, his voice now sounding a little closer, “Noted. So, why, Novak?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m curious,” She shrugged, the movement restricted by the weight of her bags.</p><p>“Curious,” He repeated, the words a whisper.</p><p>Eyes straining, she shifted and tried to find him in the dark, “Yes. Curious.”</p><p>“About what?”</p><p>“A few things…” Amelie answered vaguely.</p><p>He let out another long breath, though this time she could have sworn he was only about a foot away, “Care to elaborate, Novak? I’m getting curious myself.”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know,” She smirked, “It’s hard not to get distracted by your constant irritated sighs. They’re making me forget what I was curious about.” </p><p>He sighed, this time longer than the others.</p><p>She chuckled, “See, they’re constant.”</p><p>Even though Amelie know she didn’t technically have the upper hand, for the first time, the darkness made it feel like she was dealing with another dodgy suspect. However, she still had no clue how and was going to get him out of her apartment, and despite feeling more comfortable with his presence, he definitely needed to go.</p><p>“Then what is it about me you want to know? I’ll try not to distract you so often,” The hard edge in his voice seemed to have softened a little and Amelie felt like she may have gotten a glimpse at the Sergeant he was before all this.</p><p>“Why do you assume it’s all about you?” She countered, easily evading questions like she’d been trained to.</p><p>“Because I know that there’s nothing about my hit that you didn’t already put into that article of yours, and there wasn’t much in there. Whatever you want to know, it has to do with me. I think you’re a little obsessed, really. You did stalk me,” The humour in his voice took her by surprise and she almost felt herself smile in return.</p><p>Almost. He was a trained killer and she couldn’t forget that.</p><p>“That wasn’t stalking,” She pointed out with a huff, “I was doing my job.”</p><p>He scoffed, “If you say so. What makes you think I’ll tell you anything anyways?”</p><p>“A gut feeling.”</p><p>It wasn’t a lie. Sometimes she had a feeling and more often than not it was right. And manipulating people to get what she wanted was another one of her skills. Some would say she was heartless, but Amelie always said it was good journalism. Plus, it really wasn’t all that horrible when you realized she was only presenting people with a stereotype they expected to see. Sure, her actions bordered the lines of morality, but it wasn’t entirely her fault if people believed the act she put forward.</p><p>“I think it would be smarter for you to call the cops,” He suggested.</p><p>Amelie listened for the warning in his voice that meant danger, but it wasn’t there. At least not yet.</p><p>She wanted to put a hand on her hip but was stopped by the grocery bags. So, she did the next best thing and let out an irritated sigh, “I’m not afraid of the hitman in my kitchen.”</p><p>He let out that sharp exhale again, “That sounds like the title of a terrible children’s book.”</p><p>“Maybe, but it’s true, you know,” She answered boldly, “I’m not afraid.”</p><p>“You should be.”</p><p>Amelie couldn’t help but roll her eyes. He was trying to intimidate her so that she would stop doing her job. If only he knew how often she’d been threatened in her line of work, he’d know that he had another thing coming for him.</p><p>“Afraid of what? Your grumpy attitude? Lack of manners? Hair long enough to tie into a man-bun? I don’t think so Sergeant. You don’t exactly scream intimidating.”</p><p>Although that last bit was a lie, Amelie had had it. Her arms were tired, and she was fed up with standing in the dark of her kitchen. It was time to get a move on.</p><p>The open fridge door set the room aglow, its yellow light casting eerie shadows across the kitchen. Barnes was leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest; casual but ready to move at a moment’s notice. Unlike at Quincy Market, he was dressed in dark tactical gear, the portrait of intimidating. Though the light wasn’t bright enough to see, she was certain there were a handful of weapons hidden on him, and even if there weren’t, his sheer size made her words a lie. Any man who looked like he did could only be described as intimidating. Unfortunately for him, Amelie knew better than anyone that you couldn’t judge a book by its cover.</p><p>He raised a brow. She didn’t know whether he did so because of her words or if it was because she’d been staring but either way, she had been staring. Turning her attention back to the fridge, she began to put away her groceries.</p><p>“I’m surprised you won’t turn on the lights,” He noted.</p><p>Amelie wasn’t about to bother explaining herself and opened her vegetable drawer.</p><p>She had a question of her own, “How’d you get in?”</p><p>“Easily,” He drawled.</p><p>She popped her head above the door and shot him an annoyed look, “Care to elaborate?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Of course not,” She rolled her eyes and got back to the last bag, “Because if you did then I could actually fix the problem. Wait, you’re not planning on coming back, right? Is that why you won’t tell me?”</p><p>“I’m not planning on it, no,” He answered with that same little huff that was suspiciously beginning to sound like a laugh.</p><p>She shut the fridge door, plunging the kitchen into darkness, “Why did you come here?”</p><p>He remained silent for a beat too long, “I came to warn you to stay out of the way.”</p><p>“Threaten, you mean,” She crossed her arms, all too familiar with powerful male ‘warnings’.</p><p>“I’m giving you a warning, Novak,” His voice was cool and hard, the earlier warmth gone, “How you take it is not up to me.”</p><p>“Making sure you don’t kill people isn’t a bad thing you know,” Amelie pointed out.</p><p>The silence stretched on and she thought for a second he’d left and she hadn’t heard him but then he said, “It’s my job.”</p><p>“You could find a new one.”</p><p>“I thought you were smarter than that.”</p><p>“Fair point,” She amended, knowing there was only one place for someone like him, “Why not stop? Find a beach somewhere. Retire?”</p><p>He didn’t answer and she knew she wouldn’t get one. She was surprised she still had him her kitchen at all. Because as much as she’d wanted him gone, she’d quickly realized what an opportunity this was.</p><p>She shot another question at him, “Who’s your boss?”</p><p>He snorted, “Who says I have one?”</p><p>“Everyone does, even if that boss is ourself.”</p><p>She heard him move, but the footsteps were so silent she had no idea where he was going.</p><p>“Novak,” He whispered, so close she was sure that if she put her hand out, she could feel the scratchy material of his vest, “You’re good at what you do, I’ll give you that. But there’s no place for you in this situation, not without you getting hurt.”</p><p>Amelie decided to go for it and reached out her hand, giving him a pat on the chest when she made contact, “You know, that almost sounded sweet.”</p><p>She could have sworn she saw him shake his head.</p><p>“Stay out of this, Novak.”</p><p>A short whoosh of movement and her hand was touching nothing but air. She stood, staring out at the darkness for a moment, then realized she should probably think about putting locks on those old windows. She didn’t need him breaking in again, and she was pretty sure he was sticking around, at least for another twenty-four hours.</p><p>He’d said something had come up. He might have meant her blowing the whistle on his activities, but Amelie had a feeling there was more to it - more to her article.</p><p>All she had to do was find out what it was. Amelie knew it would be harder now that Barnes knew who she was and what she wanted, but she wouldn’t back down.</p><p>She switched on the lights, excitement drumming through her as she filled the kettle and placed it on the stovetop.</p><p>She had work to do.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Flirtatious Encounter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Amelie sat in front of her laptop in her office cubical the next morning, trying to unearth as much information as humanly possible about Barnes before his reputation as a near perfect hitman had made him better known as the Winter Soldier. Her pile of information hadn’t amassed to much. Yet, despite her infuriating lack of useful information, a small smile spread across her lips. Amelie had managed to be the journalist to have gotten the closest to him.</p><p>After Barnes had left her apartment, she’d spend the rest of the evening and well into the night researching Brad Goulson: The Winter Soldier’s last target. She knew there might not be much of a link between the two, but it was somewhere to start, and a place to start wasn’t something she had a lot of where Barnes was concerned. Other than the white-collar crimes of Goulson’s she’d exposed the week before, Amelie hadn’t been able to find any other incriminating details on him. There had to be a connection between him and Barnes, she just hadn’t found it yet. But she wasn’t about to back down.</p><p>Amelie hadn’t mentioned any of this to her boss, Cary, opting instead to find something concrete and viable beforehand. Without it, there was no way he’d let her pursue it, giving it to some ‘more qualified man’ instead. The big problem was that there wasn’t much on Barnes, even before he’d become an infamous hitman. Apparently, he’d been a standup guy without any priors - or if he did have any, he was damned good at covering his tracks.</p><p>“Amelie, what are you doing still looking into that guy?”</p><p>She spun around in her chair, forcing a smile at the sight of her nosy cubical neighbour, Arnold. Being a gossip paid off in her industry and unfortunately for her, Arnold was one of the best.</p><p>“I’m just making sure that I didn’t miss anything the first time around,” She half lied, “I have a feeling I’m missing something, and I don’t want some other paper making us look like idiots because I forget something.”</p><p>He brushed the mess of dark curls from his eyes and peered even closer at the military ID of Barnes on her laptop, “Do you have any evidence or just this <em>feeling</em> of yours.”</p><p>“Nothing,” She refused to tell him about Barnes’ little visit the night before. She trusted Arnold about as far as she could throw his ex-linebacker body, “But that’s the reason I’m looking. Something bigger is at play here and I just have to figure out what it is.”</p><p>He pursed his lips that condescending way of his that she still hadn’t gotten used to receiving, despite seeing it at least once a day. Amelie didn’t regret moving from New York to Boston, but it didn’t change the fact that the move meant starting at the bottom of the ladder again. Apparently, a stellar resume didn’t mean being taken seriously for a woman.</p><p>“Are you…Never mind.”</p><p>“What Arnold?” She chirped, easily keeping the growl out of her voice, “I’m sure whatever you have to say will be super helpful!”</p><p>“Never mind,” He waved her away, practically prancing over to his cubical.</p><p>“Please,” She whined, batting her lashes even though she knew Arnold didn’t care for that sort of thing.</p><p>He sighed and peeked over the separating wall, unable to help himself, “Are you sure you’re not letting this story go because your article put you on the map and you’re afraid of being forgotten?”</p><p>“I worked for the New York Times, Arnold, I think I’ve had a spot on the map for a while now,” She pointed out, her voice dripping with sweetness. Amelie didn’t mention that judging by the constant donuts he brought into the office he was more likely talking about himself and continued with a smile, “I listen to my gut because it pays off, especially when there are so many unanswered questions.”</p><p>Arnold stared at her with pity in his eyes as if she’d just told him that she’d fallen for a telemarketing scam, “Listen sweetie, I’m sure you’re asking fine questions, but other, better journalists have been doing the same for years now. Just because you got close to him once, doesn’t mean you’ll ever get close to him again. You crossing paths with him had more to do with luck and you’re going to have to accept that and move on.”</p><p>There wasn’t much more she could say to that. Not when Amelie didn’t want to share any of her real thoughts with him, and he only wanted to appear interested in what she was doing to make himself look better. Like everyone else, he believed she’d made it this far off of looks and daddy’s money alone. Just once she wanted someone to see past the façade. Her mind immediately drifted off to Barnes who, despite initially being fooled, had figured her out pretty quickly. Although she was pretty sure that if she played her cards right, she could make sure he underestimated her, which was exactly what she needed. But she also needed another pair of eyes. It was a pain in her ass that she didn’t have anyone else to share this with.</p><p>“You know what,” She forced out a resigned sigh, closing the webpage on her browser, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am in a little over my head.”</p><p>“Good, I was beginning to worry you were getting too caught up in this,” He shot her a toothy grin, “I have an article about fashion week that I think you should cover instead. You lived in New York, so it’ll be the perfect opportunity to relax and take it easy. It’ll take your mind off of this crazy idea about taking on a story that’s way to big for you.”</p><p>“That’s such a good idea, thanks Arnie!” Amelie gushed, swearing in her mind, “I’m so glad you’re my work neighbour.”</p><p>He stood, his chair rolling away, “I’ll get us coffee.”</p><p>“Perfect!” She exclaimed, watching him go, only muttering ‘asshat’ when he was out of earshot.</p><p>“That’s creepy, you know that?” A silky, female voice interrupted.</p><p>Amelie stood up, surprised, “Excuse me?”</p><p>The woman at the cubicle in front of her lifted her head and stared at her, an untamed afro falling into dark brown eyes, “It’s creepy that you go from being princess-goody-two-shoes to a decent, kind of badass, human being like that.”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Amelie answered sweetly.</p><p>“Sure you don’t,” She chuckled, “I actually read your article, you know that? It’s hard to believe the act when you read the kind of things you write.”</p><p>Amelie smiled and shrugged, choosing not to say anything although she was very much impressed. There weren’t many people who called her out like that. An idea began to take shape. Leaning back in her chair, Amelie glanced over into the kitchen to see Arnold busy chatting up the newest assistant. She felt bad for the assistant but thankful for the fact that he was distracted.</p><p>Rolling back, she peered back over the cubicle wall, “You’re Karla, right?”</p><p>A fake grin spread across her lips in what Amelie hoped was supposed to be a poor imitation of the one Amelie used on everyone else.</p><p>“The one and only.”</p><p>“How long have you been working here?” She asked, not bothering with pleasantries.</p><p>Karla narrowed her eyes, “Three years as a journalist, five as an assistant before that.”</p><p>The bare desk, void of any personal items gave Amelie the impression that she wasn’t someone who particularly liked her job, which, if she was right, would work in her favour.</p><p>“And what’s been your most interesting story here, so far?”</p><p>“Why do you care? And what is this? An interview,” Karla retorted, glaring at Amelie as if she could get her to back down with that deadly look alone.</p><p>Amelie shrugged, even thought that was exactly what this was, “Humour me.”</p><p>She took a moment to think about it, eyes gazing up to the ceiling while she sifted through three years’ worth of memories. Amelie knew from experience that if the memory was any good, it wouldn’t have taken this long to find it.</p><p>Finally, Karla sighed and lifted her hand up in defeat, “I don’t know. A coverage of St. Anthony’s parade last August? I got to eat a ton of cannolis.”</p><p>“And that was your most interesting story because you genuinely found that interesting or…” Amelie didn’t want to say the words. She needed Karla to say them; to acknowledge how unfulfilling her journalistic career would be if she continued to be sidelined by arrogant men.</p><p>“Of course not,” Karla snapped, “You know just as well as I do that we get assigned all the fluff pieces. Real, hard-hitting journalists are men, remember?”</p><p>“I know,” Amelie grinned, “I was just reminding you. It’s good to be reminded every once in a while.”</p><p>Karla crossed her arms over the Tardis on her tee, “To what end?”</p><p>“Help me,” Amelie didn’t phrase it as a question.</p><p>She’d need help to get her hitman, and she wasn’t getting far without a second set of eyes on the story. Her gut told her that the woman sitting in front of her was exactly the person she needed for the job.</p><p>“No,” Karla shook her head and continued to a few too many times.</p><p>Amelie almost smiled, knowing she wouldn’t need much convincing, “Why not?”</p><p>“Because you’re not supposed to be covering that story and if I help, I’ll get myself fired,” With that, she put her head down and began furiously typing on her laptop.</p><p>Amelie glanced back at Arnold, noting that the intern was slowly trying to inch away. If that intern got free, she’d only have about another minute. If she couldn’t do it now, she’d never be able to Karla to work with her.</p><p>“How long does it take you to write a fluff piece, Karla? Honestly?”</p><p>“An hour,” She answered begrudgingly.</p><p>“Right,” It took Amelie about the same and she figured they had to have the same workload, “So you’re telling me, that in your 9-5 job, researching and then writing four articles a week means that you don’t have time for anything else?” Amelie raised a brow.</p><p>Karla grit her teeth and Amelie knew she had her, “I don’t want to get fired, Novak.”</p><p>“You won’t,” She affirmed, far more confidently than she probably should have, “Whatever happens, I’ll take full responsibility. Trust me.”</p><p>“Trust you?” She scoffed, shaking her head, “Why do you want me for anyways?”</p><p>Amelie shrugged and told her the truth, “You’re far more observant than most of the people here and I need a second pair of eyes.”</p><p>Karla looked around as if there was someone in the vicinity who’d tell her she was making a terrible mistake, but no one paid attention to the two of them. No one ever did.</p><p>“Fine,” She grumbled.</p><p>“Great,” Amelie scribbled her address on a flower shaped post-it note, “My place, tonight at seven.”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>Amelie smiled, but didn’t say anything noticing Arnold’s approach and the coffees in his hands, “Oh great! Thanks, Arnie, you’re the best!”</p><p>Karla rolled her eyes before getting back to work. Amelie ignored her. She’d gotten what she wanted. So what if Karla thought her methods were a bit creepy.</p><p> </p><p>“Listen to this. There are over fifteen murders attributed to the Winter soldier in the five years since he defected,” Amelie waited for Karla’s nod to continue, “Two years ago is the start of a pattern in the victims. All scumbags, everything from white collar criminals, abusers to actual killers. Some real vigilante stuff, right? But what about the crimes before? Some dirtbags, sure, but some good people as well. What’s the pattern? What happened two years ago? And why didn’t he kill Brad Goulson last week when he had the chance?”</p><p>Karla stared at her from her position across the sofa, blinking as she took in all the of the spitfire information Amelie shot at her.</p><p>“And here’s another thing,” Amelie continued, “Why defect in the first place? He was the perfect soldier with no records of violent behaviour, abuse, or even criminal tendencies, so why, all of a sudden, switch from perfect solider to the FBI’s most wanted?”</p><p>Amelie tucked her feet in underneath her and leaned back on the couch, trying not to seem so eager. Karla sifted through the evidence Amelie had compiled on her laptop, not saying a word. The silence only made Amelie want to fill it with useless babble, but she let Karla read on, knowing there was no way she’d get any useful information from her if she kept interrupting her.</p><p>What seemed like a lifetime later, Karla looked up, “How sure are you that he defected?”</p><p>“Only partly,” Amelie grabbed her laptop back, and pulled up a couple old articles from other sources over the years, “According to these journalists - and there’s no discrepancy between them - he defected. But I haven’t seen the actual file that classifies his termination with the military, that information is sealed by the government. So, unless I can actually get the real file, we’re going off of assumptions here.”</p><p>“Okay,” Karla nodded thoughtfully, “I agree with you that something feels off about the whole thing, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”</p><p>Amelie flopped back on the couch and groaned, “Me either. What else to you think? Give me all your thoughts, no matter how small.”</p><p>“Well, I think we need to look into Goulson. I think if you want to find your Winter Soldier again, he’s the best place to start,” Karla said, grabbing her own laptop.</p><p>Amelie didn’t mention that she had a good feeling that if she dug deep enough, Barnes would find her. His warning the other night had been crystal clear - not that she planned on heading it - and he would find her when she kept pushing.</p><p>But Karla was right. Something was weird about the Brad Goulson case, and it was definitely linked to the Winter Soldier. If she was being honest, everything about this story was weird.</p><p>Karla looked up from her laptop, “What was Goulson being convicted of again?”</p><p>“Taking bribes from the Irish Mob, embezzling,” Amelie shrugged, “A few other things. The usual white-collar crimes. Nothing fancy.”</p><p>“What if Goulson wasn’t actually the target?” Karla nodded, and idea beginning to brew.</p><p>Amelie kept quiet, knowing the question wasn’t meant to be answered. She’d seen that look in the eyes of many good journalists and detectives before, and if she wanted to get something good out of it ,she needed to stay quiet and let Karla think.</p><p>“What if he was tailing Goulson, not because he was the target, but because Goulson would lead him to a bigger fish. You said it yourself that Barnes has been targeting scum over the past two years, but what if he’s targeting someone - or something - bigger than just your average scumbag. What if all the people he’s targeted and killed have something in common that has nothing to do with them being an asshole? What if, Goulson being the sole survivor, has nothing to do with your article and more to do with the fact that he doesn’t fit the profile.”</p><p>Amelie stopped short, “You’re looking at Barnes like a serial killer…and if we profile him like one instead of a hired hitman then maybe we can we can figure out what his goal is.”</p><p>“Exactly!” Karla jumped up a little in excitement, “Something changed two and a half year ago. Maybe we have to change our way of looking at him.”</p><p>Weirdly enough, Amelie felt a little uneasy thinking of Sergeant Barnes as a serial killer as opposed to a contracted killer, but she had to admit that Karla was onto something. Even though she’d looked into Barnes’ eyes and hadn’t seen anything remotely emotionless or terrifying, maybe that was what made him such a good killer. Amelie sighed, for once trying to ignore her gut feeling. Evidence mattered more at the moment.</p><p>“Amelie?” Karla asked when she’d been silent for too long.</p><p>She nodded and motioned for her to go on.</p><p>“What do we do now?”</p><p>Amelie leaned back on the couch and shut her computer, “Why are you asking me? You’re the one who came up with this theory.”</p><p>“But you brought me in,” Karla countered, “You’re in charge.”</p><p>She grinned, “Want a piece of advice? Ask for forgiveness, not permission, especially when you’re likely to be denied permission because of who you are. So Karla, tell me, what do we do now?”</p><p>Karla took in a deep breath, looked down at her lap then back up at Amelie, “Figure out what else the other victims have in common. Then we figure out who Goulson knows that fits that profile; narrow down another possible target of the Winter Solider’s.”</p><p>“Sounds good to me,” Amelie stood and stretched, “You do that. Go home, get a good night’s sleep, figure out what you can and come back to me tomorrow with whatever you’ve got.”</p><p>“What are you going to do?” She asked.</p><p>“What I should have done a while ago.”</p><p> </p><p>The bar was almost as crowded as it had been on game night, and Amelie was thankful for the anonymity. Not only would she be harder to spot but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be in a Mob bar when it was practically empty.</p><p>Any sane person would have told her that tracking down the Winter Soldier again was the most stupid thing she’d ever done, but Amelie knew she wasn’t stupid. Cary had sent her after this story for a reason, whether he knew it or not, and she was going to get it.</p><p>Unfortunately, this bar was her only lead, and it wasn’t even a good one. The odds of her running into Barnes here were slim to none, but she thought she’d give it a shot. The bar, although not owned by the Irish Mob, was rumoured to be one of their most frequented because the owner owed them a favour. According to Detective Wilson, this favour meant that whatever went down in the bar never attracted the cops no matter how hard Sam and his partners had tried to get the owner to roll on the members.</p><p>Amelie didn’t have a gut feeling about Barnes being here, but it was the only thing she could think of doing. She’d sit here until closing time, trying to glean as much information from all the drunk sources around her, even if she knew most of them wouldn’t know anything.It would probably mean coming into work the next day bleary eyed without anything useful to go on, but at least she’d know for sure.</p><p>By one o’clock, Amelie still hadn’t learned a damned thing. She’d had to shove off a few drunken idiots and had spent far more on drinks than she’d wanted to. The bartender placed a glass of what appeared to be whisky in front of her.</p><p>“Which idiot ordered this?” She asked, annoyed, but never one to turn down a free drink.</p><p>The bartender tilted his head to the side and she followed his nod to the other end of the bear. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of those piercing blue eyes. How had she missed him? He raised a brow; a silent challenge she knew she had no choice but to accept. Amelie knew she had to walk over there because she hadn’t gotten this far to chicken out now. And also because he was calling her out so publicly and she wasn’t one to back down from a fight.</p><p>She slid off the seat, drink in hand and wove her way through the crowd. His eyes never left hers as she leaned against the bar beside him, taking in the layered clothes, loose jeans and an interesting bulge in the right pocket. Even in clothes that were meant to hide him, Amelie hated to admit that he was a handsome man. She supposed she should thank him for talking to her, but she wasn’t about to count her chickens before they were hatched.</p><p>But she could thank him for something else, “Thanks for the drink, Sergeant. It wouldn’t happened to be poisoned, would it?”</p><p>He let out a sharp breath, “You could take a sip and find out. See if I’ve ruined a perfectly good glass of whisky.”</p><p>“I think I will,” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “I don’t think poison is your thing, or ruining perfectly good alcohol for that matter.”</p><p>His head tilted slightly, “And what <em>do</em> you think is my kind of thing, Novak?”</p><p>“I’m not sure yet,” She took a long, slow sip, “I’m still figuring it out.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t recommend it,” He said slowly, letting the words sink in.</p><p>She turned her gaze away, scanning the bottles behind the bar, “I know, I’ve heard your warning.” </p><p>“Have you?” He practically growled, “Because you being here would suggest otherwise.”</p><p>“Not hearing and choosing to ignore are two completely different things,” She pointed out, feeling his gaze burning her skin.</p><p>“My bad for thinking you were smarter than this,” He whispered, suddenly so close, he was all she was aware of.</p><p>She turned and almost bumped heads with him, anger flaring. He didn’t know her. None of the assholes who’d said the exact same things to her in their condescending tones had. He had no idea what she was capable of and she was damned sure going to prove him wrong. She was just about to do that but caught herself at the last second, remembering that she needed to have him underestimate her and not the other way around. Amelie couldn’t lose a grip on her act now, not when it was this important.</p><p>She smiled brightly, “It’s not my fault you mistook luck for talent. I’m not some incredible journalist that planned and plotted so I could get the story of the year. I got lucky, Sergeant. Maybe they’ll actually move me to the fashion column now.”</p><p>“It’s good, Novak, really,” His lips pulled into a feral grin, “The act is almost believable. But-”</p><p>“But,” She interrupted, turning so that she could lean her elbows back against the bar, trying her best at a flirty stance, “You’re far too talented to believe that someone could find you and your target by luck alone. Right?”</p><p>A small breath escaped his lips, the grin dropping into something a little more genuine, “Interesting change in tactic, but I’m not fooled. How about I talk to the real Novak? I need her to hear this.”</p><p>“I am the real Amelie,” She lied, batting her lashes.</p><p>He shook his head and took a step back, “I think I should be offended.”</p><p>“Now why’s that?” She pouted.</p><p>“Because you think, like everyone else, I’m gullible enough to believe that little act you put on,” His hands dropped to the bar on either side of her, caging her in. He leaned in close and whispered, “But believe me, Novak, I’m not like any of the other men you’ve ever met.”</p><p>She shivered but refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had any sort of effect on her. There was a reason she’d come here tonight, and she wasn’t about to forget it.</p><p>When he leaned back with an infuriating smirk on his lips, she brought a hand up to cup his face, the stubbled jaw scratchy beneath her palm, “Unlike any man…so that must mean you understand women almost better than they understand themselves, right?”</p><p>“I wasn’t talking about that,” He inched closer, “But if that’s what you got from it then who am I to call you a liar?”</p><p>“What I got from it,” She paused, her hand sneaking around to the nap of his neck, fingers raking though his long hair. Flirting with death was a lot more agreeable than she would have thought, “Is that you’re the man who has the power to prove me right.”</p><p>His expression went cold, “Why are you here, Novak?”</p><p>“Who says I’m here for anything other than a drink?” She asked, pressing a little closer.</p><p>“I do,” He narrowed those blue eyes, “It’s no coincidence we’ve run into each other three - no, four - times in the past couple days.”</p><p>She slid her hand down to his hard chest, tracing small circles with her finger, “In my defence, you broke into my apartment one of those times. All you had to do was ask, you know, I would have let you in.”</p><p>“I know you would have,” He grabbed her hand to stop the movement, “All you want with me is to bombard me with questions I’m never going to give answers to.”</p><p>She let out a huff, “That’s a shame, though there are other things I could want with you.”</p><p>“No, it’s not. Stay out of this before you get hurt,” He ordered.</p><p>She shoved him back and scoffed, “Because I’m an innocent little girl? I thought you said that was all an act?”</p><p>He shook his head, an expression she couldn’t read on his face, “It is, but it doesn’t change the fact that if you keep looking into this that you’re going to get hurt.”</p><p>“Sounds like another threat,” She snapped, crossing her arms, feeling for the side pocket of her jacket.</p><p>He took a step back, stone cold, “Obviously it has to be. The warning didn’t do the trick last time.”</p><p>“Fine, Sergeant,” She raised her hands in the air in exasperation, “You want me to drop it? I’ll drop it.”</p><p>His gaze raked over her from top to bottom in suspicion, “Somehow I don’t believe you.”</p><p>“It’s the truth. I value my life more than a mediocre story that no one really cares about anyways,” She lied, holding eye contact hoping to be as convincing as possible.</p><p>He laughed, the sound cold and humourless, “Nice try, but you can’t goad me, remember?”</p><p>“Trust me, I remember,” She said, unimpressed, “I’m just letting you know you’re not that special, Barnes.”</p><p>He blinked slowly, eyes bright with amusement when they met hers again, “Have a good night, Novak.”</p><p>She nodded, “Goodnight Sergeant. Don’t go around killing anyone.”</p><p>He didn’t turn back, but Amelie had a feeling he was smiling. Or at least she hoped he was. Because if he was in a good mood, he’d be less like to realize she’d just lifted his hotel key out of his pants pocket.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. A Half-baked Plan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Amelie had learned a few pickpocket skills from a criminal she’d interviewed a couple years back and had kept up with them knowing they’d be useful one day. Her skills weren’t exceptional, not even close to have worked on someone like the Winter Soldier, but there was nothing a little close flirting couldn’t do to distract most men. She’d been hoping when she’d seen the outline in his pants pocket that she’d find a credit card, but the hotel key she’d picked up was second best. Actually, she quickly realized he probably only used cash and fake names, which meant that she’d hit the jackpot. Now she could actually find him. Not that Amelie had any idea how long he’d be staying in Boston. Hopefully Barnes’ target would give him a run for his money, and he’d be stuck here longer than his usual missions.</p><p>Weaving her way through the crowd, she made it to the bathroom without attracting Barnes’ attention and locked herself into an empty stall. The card wasn’t from a well-known chain, but she hadn’t expected any different. At least this way, when she asked about Barnes, the receptionist might have an idea who she was asking about.</p><p>She took out her cellphone and snapped a picture of the card, front and back, knowing she couldn’t keep it. If Barnes realized his card was missing, he wouldn’t hesitate to change hotels. She was going to have to find a way to get it back to him without raising suspicion. How the hell was she going to do that?”</p><p>Staring at the smudged, crass writing on the stall for inspiration, Amelie sat on the toilet, unsure of what to do. If she was dealing with anyone other than the Winter Solider, she would have felt confident in her abilities, but not when going up against him. She let out humourless chuckle. He wasn’t like any other man she’d met. At least he’d warned her.</p><p>If only someone else could get the card to him…someone he wouldn’t suspect. Sniffling in the stall beside her gave her an idea. It would probably take a lot of convincing and a shit-ton of luck, but maybe it was just crazy enough to work. She just had to hope the woman beside her was as crazy as she was.</p><p>Amelie stood, smoothed out her shirt and opened the stall to knock on the one beside her, “Are you all right in there?”</p><p>There was a long pause that almost made Amelie decide she’d have to find some other plan, but the voice on the other side let out a pitiful, “Me?”</p><p>“Is there someone else in there?” Amelie winced, knowing she’d have to be a little more sympathetic than that, “I don’t mean to intrude…I heard you and thought I’d ask.”</p><p>“Yes. No. I don’t know,” The woman said through sniffles.</p><p>Amelie needed to get her out of the stall soon. She was running out of time - she might even be out of it if Barnes had already left the bar.</p><p>“Want to talk about it?” Amelie offered, “I’m a good listener. Why don’t you come out?”</p><p>There was no answer, but the door opened to reveal red rimmed eyes and smudged blue mascara. Her tight black dress was barely long enough to be considered a dress and her hair was crêped high enough to make half of jersey’s women jealous. But even the smudged make-up and tears couldn’t hide the tenacity and anger in this woman’s eyes. She would be perfect.</p><p>“What happened?” Amelie asked, stepping aside to let her use the mirror.</p><p>She sucked in a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back, “He was a fucking bastard that’s what. The asshole cheated on me, and with Rhonda of all fucking people! Can you fucking believe it?”</p><p>Amelie shook her head as if she knew who Rhonda was.</p><p>“And he had the fucking audacity to tell me on our anniversary,” She wiped the mascara from under her eyes, “And I was so fucking surprised, that I just sat there and nodded along like it was actually my fucking fault until he left.”</p><p>“That bastard,” Amelie echoed.</p><p>“And here I am, fucking pissed, and he’s god knows where. Fuck! I’m such a mess,” She clenched the mascara wand in her hand, staring at her reflection as if could tell her who she was.</p><p>Amelie put a hand on her bare shoulder and smiled sympathetically at her in the mirror, “I understand that…I had a pretty shitty last relationship myself. But I think I have something that might help.”</p><p>“You do?”</p><p>“Trust me. It won’t be as good as the real thing, but it’ll be the next best thing. And I’ll be honest with you, it’ll help me get back at my asshole ex too,” Amelie lied, knowing it was the exact thing the woman needed to hear to seal the deal.</p><p>She nodded with a smile, “I’m in. Let’s send these fucking assholes back to hell.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelie leaned against the wall in the back corner of the bar, the shadows covering her presence. Mavis - the woman from the bathroom who’s name she’d quickly learned - strode across the bar with purpose, her make-up near perfect and her hair about an inch taller. To anyone else, Mavis looked like she’d been partying most of the night and nothing more. Amelie grinned. Barnes had no idea who he was up against.</p><p>Mavis beelined for a jacked twenty something man in the far corner of the room. Amelie had pegged him earlier after watching him grab the waitress’s ass. The slurs he continued to shout at her for the rest of the night meant that Amelie couldn’t find it in her to feel bad for what was about to happen.</p><p>The slap of Mavis’ long manicured fingers across the asshole’s cheek resonated through the bar, and if that hadn’t caught everyone’s attention, her high-pitched screeching did; even the Winter Soldier stopped to look at what was going on.</p><p>“You fucking jerk!” She shouted, watching the man sputter as he tried to recover from the slap, “I can’t fucking believe you! On our anniversary! And with my best fucking friend of all people! You’re a fucking piece of trash and I hope you rot in hell!”</p><p>They guy recovered, glaring at her, “What the hell is going on? I don’t even know you! Crazy bitch!”</p><p>“So mature, Carl. Pretending like you don’t even fucking know me. I don’t need this and I sure as hell don’t need you. Next time do a better job at hiding your fucking evidence,” Mavis flicked the hotel card at his chest and spun on her heel.</p><p>Amelie could tell Mavis was trying hard to keep a straight face as she walked by and out of the bar. That random guy hadn’t actually been her Carl, but at least she’d gotten to yell at someone.</p><p>Barnes, patting his pockets, blanched when he realized who’s card she’d just found. Amelie sunk further into the shadows when he looked around, probably trying to find her. His brows furrowed when he turned up short and she sighed with relief. Amelie had been lucky that Barnes kept his money in the same pocket as the card and that he’d likely assume that the card had fallen out when he’d gone to pay for a drink. As long as he didn’t see her leave the bar, she wouldn’t be a suspect.</p><p>The sputtering asshole turned to his friends, cursing loudly between gulps of beer, the key card long forgotten on the ground behind him. Barnes wouldn’t get it right away, the odds of starting a bar fight too likely, probably jeopardizing whatever he’d come here to do.</p><p>Amelie would have liked to stay for the rest of the night, but it was too risky. If she wanted to use the information she’d gotten tonight, she couldn’t draw any more attention to herself. Amelie considered the night a success, grinning. She would have to buy Mavis a bottle of wine for that performance.</p><p> </p><p>“So, what did you find?” Amelie yawned when she walked into the office the next morning.</p><p>“I don’t think this is something we could be talking about in the office,” Karla glanced up from her laptop, her eyes lighting up when she noticed the second cup of coffee in Amelie’s hands.</p><p>“Maybe,” She handed over the coffee and rubbed her eyes with her free hand, “But I’m just too tired to care right now.”</p><p>Karla kept typing on her laptop, “What did you do after I left you apartment last night?”</p><p>“Went to a bar,” Amelie almost told her she’d seen Barnes but kept her mouth shut. The less Karla knew the less danger she’d be in. And maybe it was also a little bit because Amelie didn’t want to share her encounters with anyone else. She doubted Karla would understand either way, “Stayed way too late.”</p><p>“Did you find anything interesting?” Karla stopped, looking up.</p><p>“Nothing yet,” Omissions didn’t count as lies, “What about you? Any patterns?”</p><p>Karla looked around nervously, “Carey is going to kill us if we don’t have our stories in by noon.”</p><p>Amelie shrugged off her coat. “Mine’s handed in.”</p><p>“What?” Karla glanced at her laptop as if she’d magically finish her own article, “When did you have time to do it?”</p><p>“Yesterday. At the bar,” Amelie shrugged.</p><p>Karla shook her head incredulously, “I don’t get you.”</p><p>Amelie grinned, “Thank you.”</p><p>“I’m still not telling you what I found until work’s done,” She said, getting back to her laptop after a sip of coffee.</p><p>“So you did find something!” Amelie leaned over the cubicle, waking up for the first time all day.</p><p>“What did she find?” Arnie asked, sauntering over with a false grin on his face.</p><p>Karla stared at Amelie with wide, panicked eyes but Amelie wasn’t fazed.</p><p>“Karla found a way to get the milk to stop sticking to the bottom of the pot when making custard. Turns out you just have to boil some of the sugar with the milk instead of beating it all with the egg yolks. Who knew, right Arnie?”</p><p>He nodded, his disappointment clear, “Yeah…who knew?”</p><p>“I swear I’ve been making it wrong my whole life. I’ve been making my life so much harder than it had to be. Did you know” Amelie continued blabbering, hoping to bore Arnie out of his mind.</p><p>It didn’t take long for him to grab the moment she took a breath to tell her he needed to get to this really, really important story he was working on. Amelie nodded enthusiastically and looked over at Karla, who shook her head with a small smirk on her lips.</p><p>One day Karla would get used to Amelie’s not-so-conventional tactics. Even though she was desperate to know what Karla had found out, she knew Karla was right and that work wasn’t the place to get into it. And she really didn’t want to get Karla fired because she was doing work for her instead of for Cary.</p><p>Amelie considered going up to Cary to ask him for another assignment but decided against it. Until he assigned some other unimportant fluff peace for her to work on, she could focus on Barnes.</p><p> </p><p>“Sergeant Barnes didn’t defect.”</p><p>Amelie almost dropped the kettle filled with boiling water, “What?”</p><p>Karla nodded as if this was no big deal, sifting through Amelie’s selection of teas.</p><p>“And you waited this long to tell me?” Amelie practically yelled.</p><p>She shrugged and chose a tea, “I wasn’t going to tell you at work, and it seemed like the kind of thing to say when we were settled in.”</p><p>“How did you manage to find out?” Amelie snatched the bag or earl grey from her hand and dumped it into the teapot unceremoniously, “I thought everything on Barnes was more than classified.”</p><p>“Yeah…”</p><p>Amelie stopped her pouring at looked at Karla, who was most definitely avoiding eye contact. Their laptops were set on her kitchen table amongst a spread of papers, pens and a bowl of popcorn, none of which Karla seemed to be focused on despite actually looking directly at them. Amelie didn’t need her gut instinct to know Karla wasn’t in a sharing mood.</p><p>“And how exactly did you get his classified information?” She asked, watching Karla intently.</p><p>She shrugged, “A friend of mine has pretty high clearance…”</p><p>“High?” Amelie raised a brow, “It has to be more than high to get this kind of information.”</p><p>Karla fiddled with a napkin, “She may have taken the liberty to get the information another way.”</p><p>“But it’s legit?”</p><p>Amelie knew there was definitely more to this ‘friend’ of hers, but she didn’t push the matter. Not now, when there were other more important things to figure out. After that.</p><p>“Yes, it’s legit.”</p><p>“Good,” Amelie nodded and began pulling up documents on her own laptop, “Do you have the file?”</p><p>The silence stretched out for so long that Amelie almost repeated her question, thinking Karla hadn’t heard, but she was staring at her, wide-eyed.</p><p>“What?” Amelie asked.</p><p>“Aren’t you going to tell me that what I did was wrong?”</p><p>“No,” Amelie shut her computer and gave Karla her full attention, “If you could have gotten this legally, you would have?”</p><p>Karla didn’t hesitate, “Yes.”</p><p>“And did anyone get hurt in the process?” Amelie continued.</p><p>“Not yet,” Karla pursed her lips, “Or that I know of.”</p><p>That last comment made Amelie wonder what kind of friends Karla had but it didn’t matter, “Exactly. You did what you needed to get to the truth. Sometimes it’s not always conventional. Show me the file?”</p><p>Karla pulled it up on her laptop and slid it across the table so that she could get a good look. Amelie read it, paused, then read it again just to be sure.</p><p>“Can I print this?”</p><p>Karla shrugged and poured herself another cup of tea. Even staring at the printed version, Amelie still couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. She’d known something was weird, but she hadn’t expected this.</p><p>“Weird, isn’t it?” Karla asked, breaking the silence.</p><p>Amelie nodded, thinking, “You’re sure this file is legit?”</p><p>“One hundred percent,” She affirmed, “My friend wouldn’t have gotten me anything less.”</p><p>“This says Barnes died in combat eight years ago: body never retrieved.”</p><p>“Train accident in the alps,” Karla continued, reciting the rest of the file as if she’d memorized it, “No known missions at the time.”</p><p>Amelie flipped through more files, “Do you know what unit he was a part of? I found something about the 107th infantry unit but apparently that was deactivated years ago.”</p><p>“I was wondering the same thing, so I asked my friend to dig a little deeper. We found a note that said something about CS. I didn’t ask how, but my friend figured this out: they’re an off the books squad of about a dozen seriously tough guys, half of them heads of their own units before this one. The two leading men were Captain Steve Rogers and Marine Frank Castle, with Barnes and Russo - another marine - as seconds. My friend couldn’t get me those files, but I got a look and all four men were marked down as dead in combat. Apparently, they had defied orders and went off without the rest of their squad or backup, and none came back,” Karla raised as brow, the look on her face saying she didn’t believe there wasn’t more to that story.</p><p>Amelie ran her hand through her hair, trying not to pull at it, “So the U.S government assumes they died because they defied orders? Or because they followed orders and they couldn’t find the bodies - the proof. Then Barnes turns up on some security camera years after the assassination of the Belgian Prime Minister - which they later linked to him. When he does, the big news outlets are pressuring the military for some explanation and they come up with a fake one that takes all the fault from them. Right?”</p><p>“Right. And they wouldn’t even have to come up with a fake file,” Karla began, “Any high enough ranking officer gives a speech or talks to the press ‘under wraps’ and then it’s considered legitimate.”</p><p>Amelie felt herself getting swept up in the idea, “And when they figure out that Barnes is alive, they don’t change the file because they might even be as confused as we are.”</p><p>Karla pulled up a different file and turned the screen to face her, “Here’s what I don’t get; seven years ago, they thought he was dead, but soon realized he wasn’t. What did Barnes do in those three years between his ‘death’ and his first kill?”</p><p>“Maybe there were kills before that, but they weren’t linked to him?” Karla continued when Amelie said nothing.</p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p>They sat in silence, both mulling over the new evidence.</p><p>“Something about that three year-gap doesn’t add up,” Amelie mused, “We’re missing something important.”</p><p>“What are you thinking?” Karla asked.</p><p>“Put yourself in his shoes. You’re a sergeant, twenty-six years old, no family, no responsibilities, just your work and your friends - who are presumable overseas with you. Why leave a good paying job? Sure, it’s no mercenary’s salary, but it’s not like he has a sick relative or some other reason that would be ‘worth’ the price of murder. Could Barnes really just boil down to greed and nothing more?”</p><p>Amelie refused to believe that. The man she’d crossed paths with couldn’t be boiled down to something as simple and boring as money. But really, he could. Just because she didn’t have the common sense to be afraid of him, didn’t mean she actually knew him. Amelie knew nothing about him other than he was rude, grumpy and far more soft-spoken than she’d expected for a soldier. Even though she didn’t believe it for a second, he could be putting on an act the same way she was.</p><p>“And then we have that weird switch in victims…” Amelie sighed and flopped back onto her sofa.</p><p>There were so many questions and not enough answers. Amelie had known this story wouldn’t be easy, but she’d at least expected to get <em>somewhere</em>.</p><p>Karla’s brows furrowed.</p><p>“What is it? Amelie demanded, trying not to get to get her hopes up by that look. </p><p>Karla placed the list of Barnes’ kills in front of Amelie, drawing a line after the first third, “What if this change is a change in profession; a change from mercenary to vigilante. We said last time that looking at him like a serial killer is out best bet, well, what if he’s not working for anyone. He starts off working for someone else, gets tired of it, and decides to ‘redeem’ himself?”</p><p>Amelie had a feeling that there was something off with Karla’s theory, but she didn’t say anything. They needed all the theories they could get and when she thought about it, Barnes hadn’t told her who he was working for. Wanting to avoid the queasy feeling she was getting, she turned their attention to a different question.</p><p>“What about the three years between his ‘death’ and his first kill? Why wait so long?”</p><p>“What if he was in the hospital?” Karla nodded, warming up to the idea, “What if - whatever happened in Europe - almost left him dead, but somehow he ends up in the hospital and when he figures out the military has abandoned him, he decides to go rogue.”</p><p>“Maybe…that would make sense. Probably our best bet right now,” Amelie scribbled the theory into her journal, “So the guy almost dies, wakes up to find that the army has abandoned him, decides to work as a mercenary as payback then kind of grows a conscious and becomes a serial killer vigilante?”</p><p>Karla grimaced, “When you say it like that, it sounds crazy.”</p><p>“It’s our best theory at the moment. Did you find anything on Goulson?” Amelie decided to change the subject completely, not liking the theory she had scribbled into her notebook.</p><p>She couldn’t pinpoint why, but her gut was telling her she was missing something. Something big. And she also wanted there to be more to Barnes than the few words on her paper. He had been far too interesting for her to believe he could be summed up by revenge, greed and a violent change of heart. But her brain was also starting to hurt, and she knew she wasn’t going to get anything more on the subject tonight.</p><p>“Honestly your article probably had the most information on Goulson I could find,” Karla said, “I could try and find more if you’d like.”</p><p>Amelie closed her eyes, “Sure, yeah, talk to your friend. Maybe he can find something I missed.”</p><p>“You okay? You look a little distracted.”</p><p>“Yeah I’m fine.” Amelie forced a smile, “I just feel like I’m missing something important you know?”</p><p>Karla nodded sympathetically, “Yeah I know.”</p><p>“If only I could just ask him” Amelie mumbled, not realizing she spoke the words aloud until Karla choked out a laugh.</p><p>“Yeah, somehow I doubt you’d live to tell the tale.”</p><p>Amelie lifted her eyes, but Karla was already focused on her computer again, having dismissed Amelie’s words without a second thought. The Winter Solider was reputed to be dangerous and violent. There was no way Karla would take her statement seriously.</p><p>But Amelie had been serious, even if she knew there was no way she could ever ask Barnes for answers. He’d never give them up willingly. She knew she needed to see him again though. He held missing pieces that she wasn’t going to get anywhere else.</p><p>“I heard Cary changed your section in the paper?” Karla said, interrupting her thoughts.</p><p>“Yeah,” Amelie smiled, thinking Barnes would be pretty amused if he heard, “Jacobs is out for the next two weeks on sick leave so I’m taking over the sports column.”</p><p>“How did that happen?”</p><p>Amelie shrugged as if it was no big deal, “No clue.”</p><p>Karla didn’t seem to think anything of it and got back to her research.</p><p>Jacobs going on sick leave was - even if it was unfortunate for him - the best thing that could’ve happened at the moment. Amelie had had to beg and pester Cary the whole day, but eventually he’d agreed to give her the column until Jacobs came back. If her job involved watching the games, then who said she couldn’t do if from a certain pub. Sure being at the game itself would make a better column, but she was only filling in for two weeks. No one was going to mind if it wasn’t stellar. Amelie was banking on the fact that Barnes had to be at that pub and if she had her name on an article as her alibi for being there too, well, it wouldn’t draw the suspicion from her completely, but at least it would help.</p><p> </p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>Even though she’d be going to the game tonight, Amelie had decided to stake out Barnes’ motel. She’d parked her car in the lot of another sketchy motel across the street for most of the day now, and Barnes was nowhere to be seen. If she hadn’t gone in earlier to confirm with the clerk that a man matching his description was staying in room six, then she would’ve decided he’d skipped town. The fact that he hadn’t only confirmed her theory that he still had bigger fish to fry.</p><p>The game was an hour away and Amelie still needed to go to her apartment and get ready before heading to the bar. She sighed, annoyed he hadn’t made an appearance, but convincing herself that he’d show tomorrow. Pulling the car out onto the boulevard, Amelie could shake the feeling of disappointment. Where had he been all day? Had she simply missed him? She’d been there all day and hadn’t seen or heard anything.</p><p>The light ahead turned red and she slammed on the breaks, realizing she’d been lost in thought. She glanced left to make sure she had the right of way to turn before she could turn and froze, her pounding heart the only thing that worked. Sitting in the black SUV beside her was the exact man she’d been looking for all day.</p><p>His eyes widened when he recognized her and he looked like he was opening his mouth to say something, so she sped off, terrified he’d realize she was staking out his motel. They were a five-minute drive away from the motel, but she wasn’t willing to risk it. When she was almost back at her apartment and certain he hadn’t followed her, she eased off the gas, realizing how stupid she’d been. If she’d held back, she could have gotten his licence plate number. At least she knew what kind of car to look for - that was if he didn’t swap out his car now that she’d seen him. Amelie still felt that uneasy feeling coursing through her veins, but she tried to ignore it. She had a game to watch tonight and a mercenary to observe.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“Another one, Amelie?”</p><p>She smirked, “Knox, you treat me so well.”</p><p>“I try darlin’” The bartender shot her a knowing grin, pulling the bourbon from the shelf, “Can’t have a pretty lady like you going thirsty.”</p><p>She slid her empty glass across the bar, earning a wink in return. Despite the Friday night game and packed bar, Amelie had found a cozy spot at the corner of the bar, her phone out to take notes on the game. Barnes hadn’t shown up, but the night was still early. There was still time.</p><p>Typing up a few quick notes after Boston’s third missed free throw of the first quarter, she took a sip of the drink Knox had poured for her. Amelie had learned a long time ago - when she’d been a bartender herself - that no one knew as much information as the bartender. Befriending them was never a bad decision, even if Knox’s loyalties did lie with the Irish Mob. He wouldn’t give her anything on Goulson, but she doubted he’d feel any remorse on turning over the Winter Soldier. As long as it didn’t hurt the mob, he could turn out to be an extremely useful source of information.</p><p>She almost called him over to ask how often he’d seen Barnes this week when she felt someone ease into the barstool beside her. Her heartbeat picked up. She didn’t need to turn to see who was there. It was almost as if he radiated the kind of danger and excitement that had her blood pounding in anticipation.</p><p>Amelie tilted her head, letting it loll to the side to get a good look at Barnes. He wasn’t looking at her, but at Knox, signalling for a whisky on the rocks. His hair was an unkempt mess, falling partly in his eyes, down to his strong jaw, which was covered in a light stubble as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days. He was a far cry from the clean-shaven soldier she’d seen on his military ID, but she couldn’t say it was a bad look.</p><p>When he got his drink, his gaze slid over toward her, cool blue eyes curious. Amelie kept staring unabashedly, thinking two things. One; she didn’t mind the view and two; if he’d come over to say something, she’d wait until he did first. The bar burst into cheers, probably from a successful three-pointer, but he didn’t flinch at the sound, never breaking eye contact. She narrowed her eyes at him. The corner of his mouth quirked up.</p><p>“Would you care to explain what you were doing this afternoon?” He asked, raising a brow.</p><p>She shrugged, “Research. What about you, Sergeant?”</p><p>“Research,” He echoed. She couldn’t decide if it was in disbelief or if he was also telling the truth, no matter how vaguely, “And what about that research of yours, Novak?”</p><p>“Oh, you know,” She waved a hand, “Just sports.”</p><p>He chuckled, and this time she was sure he didn’t believe her.</p><p>She grinned, “I thought I told you I was still stuck doing the sports column. Turns out that little article about you didn’t get me that promotion I wanted.”</p><p>He licked his lips as if he was trying to keep a smile off his face, “That’s too bad. Though it’s kind of hard to believe after that <em>little article</em>.”</p><p>“Oh, I only put that out because I happened to fall upon something vaguely interesting and I was really bored,” She unlocked her phone and showed him her notes on tonight’s game, “If you read the paper tomorrow, you’ll find my name right there in the sports column. Why else do you think I’m here tonight?”</p><p>“And here I thought you were here to see me,” He took a long sip of his drink.</p><p>“You told me to stay away,” She leaned further into the innocent act, “Why on earth would I come here to see you?”</p><p>He moved so close that his hair brushed against her cheek and levelled his gaze to hers so that when he looked up at the TV screen he could barely see, “Because you’d actually be at the game tonight if you really wanted to see anything.”</p><p>“True, but the Garden doesn’t have a bartender half as good as Knox,” She said, nodding toward Knox, who caught her look and winked back.</p><p>“You come here for the bartender?”</p><p>She laughed at his tone, “You don’t seem to believe me.”</p><p>“I underestimated you once,” He titled his head to look her in the eyes, their faces so close she noticed flecks of green in his eyes, “I don’t plan on doing it again.”</p><p>“That’s a smart move, Sergeant,” She murmured.</p><p>He leaned back, “To your disappointment.”</p><p>She chuckled, surprised by the fact that it was real, “Yes, to my disappointment. Why are <em>you</em> here, Barnes?”</p><p>“For the bartender of course,” The corner of his mouth twitched upward.</p><p>She leaned in a little closer, “Aren’t you in a good mood tonight.”</p><p>His smile dropped and he backed off even further. Amelie immediately wanted to take her words back, but because she couldn’t she rephrased her question, “Why are you here, sitting beside me? I’m sure a man like yourself would have other, more important things to be doing with his time.”</p><p>Her question seemed to put him more at ease, though his stiff posture told her that however much he’d let his guard down before wasn’t going to happen again, “I’m here because this is the second time we’ve seen each other today.”</p><p>She fluttered her lashes, “I’m not sure what you mean.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” He drew out the words, leaning in as he spoke.</p><p>Amelie pretended to think about it for a moment, “Yes. I’m sure.”</p><p>He narrowed his eyes, “Why <em>are</em> you here, Novak?” </p><p>“A great story,” She replied honestly. When his eyes widened in surprise, she continued, “Though the game is only beginning, so I can’t be sure that I’ll be able to get something worth writing about tonight.”</p><p>His gaze flickered to the screen and back, “And what happens if nothing good happens by the time the buzzer goes?”</p><p>“Then I do my best to write something with what I’ve got.”</p><p>“Will it even be worth it?” He asked, playing along with the analogy, “To submit something that has nothing good in it?”</p><p>She traced the rim of her glass with her finger, “I have a feeling that won’t be a problem. The game has been pretty interesting so far.”</p><p>“Interesting,” He echoed with one of his little huffs that she now knew was something akin to a laugh, “But didn’t you say you wanted to stop doing sports stories? I think you should get out of the game and let the professionals do their job.”</p><p>“I’m more qualified that you think, Sergeant,” Amelie jut her chin up.</p><p>He leaned in closer, cornering her between the wall, the bar and his body. What little humour was there, vanished, “I don’t doubt that in the slightest, but I don’t think you understand how qualified you need to be to get the job done.”</p><p>She stared into those piercing eyes, refusing to back down, “I’m not afraid of getting hurt.”</p><p>“Obviously,” He snapped, “But you should be.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes, “Your threats are getting old.”</p><p>“They’re not sinking in,” He growled.</p><p>“Why does it matter?” She stared at him for a long moment, for a second there, sure he was going to look away, “Do you care if I get hurt, Barnes?”</p><p>A sigh escaped his lips and she could practically see him deflate as he sat back down in his stool and signalled for another drink, “How can you be so sure I’m not the one who will be the reason you get hurt.”</p><p>His brows furrowed and she watched the way his hand tightened around the glass.</p><p>“A gut feeling,” She said softly, her words barely heard over the crowd.</p><p>“How reassuring,” He answered dryly.</p><p>She shrugged, and took a sip of her bourbon, “Reassures me.”</p><p>“Why’s that?” He asked, head tilted in interest.</p><p>“Because,” She dipped her glass toward him, “It’s led me to you every time.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A Devilish Discovery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Novak, go home,” He sighed as if he was done playing her games.</p><p>She wasn’t.</p><p>“I have a game to watch,” She shrugged, “I can’t leave before it ends.”</p><p>He ran his hand through his hair, “Then watch the game. Don’t get involved.”</p><p>He stood to leave but she grabbed his forearm, not yet ready to have him disappear on her. Amelie paused. She knew he was strong, but the muscle beneath her hand felt like rock. Looking down, she noticed smooth metal where his hand should have been.</p><p>He ripped his arm away, eyes flashing wide for a moment, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of this.”</p><p>She watched him weave through the crowd, arm tucked in close as if she’d just burned him with her touch. When she lost sight of him, she texted Karla.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>How long would it take to recover from the loss of a limb?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The bar burst into cheers again and the sound of the buzzer announced the half. Amelie was going to have to pay more attention to the game if she wanted to get this column done.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Depends which one. Why?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>How about an arm?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>About 6 months to a year after getting the prosthetic. Are you going to tell me why?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I have information. Tell you tomorrow.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>KK.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amelie looked around the bar, hoping to find Barnes, but he was nowhere to be found. Even though she was disappointed, she knew she’d still gotten valuable information and that she shouldn’t push her luck. How the hell had she missed the metal arm the first couple times? Clearly, she was going to have to step up her game if she wanted to get anywhere with Barnes. Maybe if she did, she’d get more answers.</p><p> </p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes dropped onto the cheap motel bed and let out a frustrated sigh. His job would have been a hell of a lot easier if that article hadn’t let the Irish Mob know he was in town. They’d gone underground the moment the article had seen daylight and he knew they’d wait him out or die trying before ever leaving Boston. Bucky didn’t have the luxury of time.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Was he annoyed that this the mob was making his life more complicated than it had to be? Absolutely. Was he worried? Not really. As much as he hated to admit it, he never had that much trouble getting the job done, even if he knew he’d start running into some problems the longer he stayed here. But Amalie Novak…he hadn’t been expecting her. He was more intrigued by her than annoyed. She was the kind of person you didn’t look at twice, and he sure as hell hadn’t the first time they’d met. Shit, he’d believed her whole act without a second thought. But that was before he’d broken into her apartment. If she’d been impossible to remember before that, the look in her eyes as she stared him down in her kitchen made her impossible to forget. She’d gotten closer to him than any of the cops, feds or the military had, and that intrigued Bucky more than he was willing to admit to himself. He had underestimated her once before, but he knew that if - when - he ran into her again, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He reached for the strap to take off his prosthetic and felt his real arm spasm, his fingers clawing around the clasp, unable to unbuckle it. His chest constricted, his breathing coming out in shallow gasps. Gritting through the pain, Bucky stood and stumbled over to the safe. He was barely able to punch in the code and plunge the syringe into his arm, only loosing a breath when the drug took effect a few excruciating seconds later. He sat on the edge of his motel bed, head hanging beneath his shoulders with his palms on his knees. His breathing returned to normal quickly, his body accustomed to the pain after years of living with it. They had given him enough to survive a week-long job, but after the article had come out, Bucky had known it would take him longer than that to finish his mission. The assholes hadn’t thought it was their problem and had refused to send him more of antidote. Bucky was flirting with death by taking half doses instead of full ones, but it was worth the risk of eventually getting back at them. He wasn’t fighting for his freedom; he didn’t deserve it anymore. He was fighting for something so much bigger and he was so close now. He only had to stomach one more kill to get what he needed. As long as Amelie Novak didn’t get any more involved than she already had, things would go according to plan. And only a small part of Bucky was disappointed at the prospect of her keeping that feisty attitude out of his business. Or so he told himself.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Karla didn’t look convinced, “He has a prosthetic arm?”</p><p>“Yes,” Amelie repeated for the third time this evening.</p><p>“How the hell do you know?”</p><p>Amelie was about to answer but realized she’d have to come up with one hell of a lie to convince her of something this big.</p><p>Karla stared at her intently as if she knew Amelie was trying to come up with a lie.</p><p>“I-”</p><p>“Don’t bother,” Karla pointed a finger at her, “You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”</p><p>She raised a brow, “Seen who?”</p><p>Karla smacked her on the arm, “Don’t be an asshole! The Winter Soldier! How the hell did you find him?”</p><p>“He’s going after the Irish Mob,” Amelie turned to look for something in her bag, avoiding eyes contact, “I figured I’d go to some of their known hangouts.”</p><p>“And what? You just happened to find him?” Karla asked skeptically.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“He’s dangerous!” She exclaimed.</p><p>Amelie didn’t know what else to say so she went with, “I was being careful.”</p><p>“Were you?" Karla clearly wasn’t having any of it, "Had you even let anyone know where you were? Did you want to end up dead?”</p><p>Her reaction made Amelie glad that she hadn’t hold Karla about the time Barnes had broken into her apartment. The only upside to Karla’s little freakout was that Amelie had a feeling that she’d actually made a friend here in Boston. As trivial as it sounded, it was nice to know she had someone else to rely on and who worried about her safety.</p><p>“I wasn’t going to end up dead,” Amelie sighed, pulling up her files on Barnes and looking over the same words she had about a hundred times now.</p><p>Karla put her hand on hers, “How can you be so sure.”</p><p>Amelie didn’t know what to say, not without giving away how often she’d met up with Barnes. She didn’t think she would be able to explain to Karla that despite his track record, she wasn’t afraid of him. But the problem was that she should have been. That meant there was no answer she could give that Karla would understand.</p><p>“He has no reason to kill me.”</p><p>Karla rolled her eyes, “No, no reason at all. I mean other than the fact that you’re trying to run a story that will blow up his whole operation, right?”</p><p>“Can we just move on?” Amelie sighed, “We have more important things to talk about.”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>They both turned to their laptops, neither saying a word.</p><p>After a long stretch of silence, Karla spoke up, “What’s he like?</p><p>“What?” Amelie asked, even though she was pretty sure she’d heard correctly.</p><p>“The Winter Soldier,” Karla whispered as if he could hear, “What’s he like?”</p><p>Amelie thought about it for a moment, knowing that whatever she’d put into words wouldn’t do him justice. She settled on, “Intelligent. Strong. Dangerous.”</p><p>But even as she said it, the adjectives felt inadequate. She didn’t know how to properly explain what it was like to sit beside him in a bar on a Friday night. He felt like the kind of person who saw so much more than he let on, and she’d seen glimpses of a man beneath the surface that made her think that there was more to him than the media’s portrayal of the Winter Soldier. That yes, he was dangerous, but that wasn’t who he <em>was</em>.</p><p>“What did you find on Goulson’s connection to the mob?” Amelie changed the subject. Their conversation was straying too far from facts and too close emotions. Amelie needed to keep a clear head.</p><p>“Well, apparently Goulson owed the Irish Mob a ton of money, but that would only make the mob want to kill him instead of the Winter Soldier,” Karla ran a hand through her hair and let out a frustrated sigh, “You probably saved Goulson from the mob more than the Winter Soldier, and that gets us nowhere.”</p><p>Amelie reminded herself that regardless of how shitty a person Goulson was, she had saved a life, and motioned for Karla to continue.</p><p>“So anyways, over the last three years the Irish Mob has gained control over most of the drug market in Boston, which means they control most of the illegal underground network, along with a list of other important businessmen and officials that we don’t actually know about.”</p><p>Amelie groaned, “We’re going to have to look into every important person in the city, aren’t we?”</p><p>Karla grinned, “I thought you liked research.”</p><p>“The on the ground part of research,” She corrected, “Does the Winter Soldier have anything to gain from taking these major players out?”</p><p>“No,” Karla slid backward on her chair, shoulders sloping, “I couldn’t find any connection between the mob, Barnes, Goulson or any of the dead CEOs.”</p><p>Amelie let out another groan, “Of course not. And nothing looked out of the ordinary at all?”</p><p>“No but let me print out the list of Barnes’ hits for you. On this side are the victims and the other side are the replacing CEOs. Maybe you’ll find something I didn’t.”</p><p>When Amelie took a look at the list, something clenched in her gut and she knew she was looking at something important. It wasn’t until she saw the second last name on the list that she knew what she had to look for. She wasn’t sure she was right, but for the first time in a long time, she had an actual lead.</p><p>“I think-”</p><p>Amelie shushed Karla, still staring at the paper. She grabbed a pen and circled some of the names she already recognized but there were too many that she didn’t to have a concrete answer.</p><p>She slid the paper toward Karla and motioned toward the bottom six names on the list, “Tell me which company the replacing CEOs worked for and let me know if another company stepped in to help with the bad press or to buy them out.”</p><p>Karla’s brows furrowed, but she nodded, typing in the first name. They worked in silence, jotting down their notes. With every name Amelie scribbled down, the more motivated she became. When they reached the last name, Amelie grinned and pulled up an old article she’d worked on for the Times and cross referenced her information.</p><p>“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Karla demanded, the suspense killing her.</p><p>“Do you know HydraEnergies?” Amelie asked.</p><p>“Yeah, Of course. They’re the biggest energy company in the country. Everyone knows who they are.”</p><p>Amelie leaned in, “Well, here’s the thing. They have multiple shares in a whole slew of companies and own a bunch more in everything from weapons, to food to medical labs.”</p><p>“Wait,” Karla shook her head, “That makes no sense. They’re a green energy company. They invest in upcoming students and innovative ideas; that’s their whole motto. They’re good guys, right? Not the kind to deal with the Winter Soldier.”</p><p>“That’s what I thought too, but I investigated the company for a story I was working on in New York. Only you never saw it because the story never ran. Just before it was supposed to go to print, my boss pulled the story. Never said why exactly…” Amelie slid her computer over so that Karla could see the article.</p><p>“Okay…so their investments and ownerships are a little sketchy. That doesn’t mean they’re working with the Winter Soldier.”</p><p>“That would be true if I believed in coincidence. We thought he was only taking out scumbags, and he is, but that’s just a cover. The people who are replacing the victims are the ones we should have looked into first. Every person who’s filled in for every major scandal and death attributed to the Winter Soldier is employed by HydraEnergy in one way or another: A HydraEnergy employee always stands to benefit from all of Barnes’ hits.”</p><p>Karla stilled, “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, how has no one made the connection before?”</p><p>“Because the victims were all scumbags,” Amelie said, realizing just how clever the whole operation was, “It was the most obvious motive, so no one looked closer. And anyways, why look into a company that’s been all over the news for the good they’ve been doing for the environment, especially when their investments aren’t public domain.”</p><p>Karla flipped through her notes, “Wait…there have been almost half a dozen murders, which means that…wait.”</p><p>“That means the HydraEnergy is at the head of over fifty percent of the most influential organizations in the country,” Amelie supplied.</p><p>“Barnes isn’t a vigilante serial killer.”</p><p>Amelie shook her head, “He’s a hitman for a very shady company, parading under the assumption that he’s targeting assholes.”</p><p>Karla fell back into her chair, “Woah.”</p><p>“Woah is right.”</p><p>“So, this story has just gotten a hell of a lot bigger,” Karla rolled her shoulders back, “How are we going to get it done?”</p><p>Amelie looked up at Karla in surprise. Whatever she expected to happen, didn’t. The speech she’d made up in her mind just now, ready to tell Karla she’d understand if she no longer wanted to be involved, vanished.</p><p>“I’m not sure, but we’ll get this done,” Amelie tried to sound more confident than she actually felt.</p><p>Karla nodded, “Let’s say we do get everything we need to run a credible story, who says Cary’s not going to cave like your boss did at the Times?”</p><p>“This time I’m not going to ask for permission,” Amelie promised. </p><p>Karla looked up from her laptop in surprise “What does that mean.”</p><p>“The less you know the better,” Amelie pulled up all their information on the mob, “Barnes is just the hand. We need to go for the head. To do that, we need to start with the mob.”</p><p>“Do you think we’ll manage to get both?” Karla asked.</p><p>Amelie shook her head, “I don’t know…”</p><p>“No gut feeling?”</p><p>Amelie sighed, “Not this time.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Breaking and entering. Amelie, though she wasn’t exactly proud to admit it, had done her fair share of illegal B&amp;E. However, the only thing she hadn’t done was break into the motel room of one of the most feared mercenaries in the world. The only good thing was that cheap motel rooms were the same everywhere, regardless of who was staying there, which meant that it was no harder to get into his room than any other place she’d broken into.</p><p>When she got the door open and stepped inside, her heart was hammering so hard she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hear Barnes if he came in. The room was simple and smelled faintly of cigarette despite the no smoking sign over the bedside table. The only signs that anyone was staying there was were large duffel bag in the corner and the takeout in the trash. He hadn’t even left his toothbrush in the bathroom. This was a room of a man not planning on staying long and ready to go at a moment’s notice.</p><p>Although she had come here for answers, Amelie didn’t dare touch the duffel bag. Not in fear of what she might find, but because she was sure he’d know if she did. Amelie wasn’t about to lose her only source of information when she still wasn’t sure what she was looking for. If she really wanted to get information, she was she sure’d be able to find a way to provoke him enough to get him to come find her.</p><p>Instead of turning around and leaving, she went for the safe. The odds of her being able to crack it were slim to none, but the lack of dust around the opening told her he’d been taking something in and out of it. Amelie had no clue what he’d keep in there, knowing fully well that he kept his gun on him. What would he need regularly that he didn’t need on him? After seeing the entirety of the room, she knew there was nothing he cared about that he didn’t absolutely need.</p><p>The sound of her cellphone startled her so much that she fell back on her ass, heart pounding as she picked up the call, “Novak.”</p><p>“Why are you whispering? Karla asked by way of greeting.</p><p>Amelie pushed herself up, “I’m at the library, researching.”</p><p>“I thought you were supposed to be trying to meet with the head of the Irish Mob?”</p><p>“I know, but I needed to check something else out first,” Amelie closed the cupboard door that hid the safe.</p><p>“Works out,” Karla replied, the sound of flipping papers audible through the phone, “Goulson wasn’t connected with the head of the mob.”</p><p>“Why would Barnes go after Goulson if the head of the mob is Hydra’s goal?” A bang on the other side of the wall had Amelie up and heading to the door, reminding her of the compromising position she was in, “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll meet you at your place in a half hour.”</p><p>“Be safe,” Karla said as if she knew exactly where Amelie was.</p><p>“Will do.”</p><p>With one least look around the room, she made she the coast was clear and left, hoping she hadn’t left any sort of evidence behind.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Bucky crept through the apartment, combat boots silent on the old, wooden floors. He’d been here for almost ten minutes now and he still hadn’t found her laptop or anything else that might tell him what she knew. He wasn’t afraid that Amelie Novak might get in his way. Instead, he was hoping that she might have useful information of her own. The mob was good at covering their tracks - he supposed it was a good thing for Hydra — which wasn’t great for him. If he could get his information another way then to go through them directly, he’d try it. The faster he could blow this whole thing to hell the better.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>By now, he had to assume that she’d taken her laptop with her, but he wasn’t ready to give up and leave just yet. Bucky had combed through the entire place - with the exception of her underwear drawer because he had to draw the privacy line somewhere - without success. If there was a clue here, she was better at hiding it than he was at finding it. He considered waiting for her until she got home and asking her himself, but changed his mind. He didn’t want her feeling any more encouraged about getting involved.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was about to go back out the fire escape when he heard laughter from down below. A group of young teenagers sat on crates in the back alley, tendrils of smoke drifting up to the fourth floor. The smell was answer enough for Bucky to know they weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon. Although he was pretty sure he could go down the fire escape without much consequence, he wasn’t about to risk it. Oddly enough, it seemed that walking out the front door was his way out.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bucky didn’t even get a foot out the door before being stopped by an old man of average height and an above average moustache . Through a pair of boxy sunglasses, the old man shot him a look that made Bucky pause and search for his most placating smile.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Who the hell are you?” The man demanded, shutting his door behind him, “That’s Ms. Novak's apartment.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Boyfriend,” Bucky answered without thinking.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man huffed and walked over to the elevator. Bucky, seeing no other option, followed the man.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The old man looked him over, “She’s such a sweet girl. I wonder what she’s doing with the likes of you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bucky was sure Novak had the whole damn world fooled but he knew different. He was sure she’d been hanging around with worse than the likes of him if his research on her had proven anything. Still, to the man’s credit, Bucky was practically dressed in tactical gear from head to toe. There was no way he looked like a first class citizen.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I ask myself the same thing,” Bucky answered with a smile he hoped didn’t look too fake. He had to admit that smiling wasn’t something he did all too often anymore.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“She’s a smart girl,” The old man grinned as if he knew something Bucky didn’t and pressed the button to go down to the lobby, “I’m sure she’s got this all under control. If she doesn’t, I know what you look like.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This time, Bucky’s smile was genuine and he couldn’t help but shoot him a conspiring grin back. It wasn’t every day he got threatened by a ninety-something year old man.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I promise I won’t hurt her,” Bucky said before the elevator reached ground level.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He nodded, and extended his hand, “Good. Nice to meet you…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“James,” Bucky took his hand for a surprisingly firm shake.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Stan. See you around, punk.”</em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>“How can you be smiling right now?” Karla groaned, “Everything’s only getting more and more complicated.”</p><p>Amelie took a sip of her coffee, “More complicated means it’s coming together.”</p><p>“It would actually be coming together if we could find proof that HydraEnergy hired the Winter Solider to take out all those people,” She whisper shouted across the cubicle.</p><p>Though most people had gone home for the evening, the few that were still left in the office didn’t need to be hearing their business. At this point, Amelie was no longer such just how far Hydra’s reach went.</p><p>“And I’d like for the Winter Soldier to show up and answer all my questions on record but we’d be out of a job if it were always that easy,” Amelie replied, looking through the photos she’d taken of his motel room for the hundredth time.</p><p>Karla huffed a breath, “Well, it would be nice if it were half as easy though.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t be half as fun though,” Amelie pointed out with a grin.</p><p>She shook her head a begrudging smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, “You’re crazy.”</p><p>“Tell me something I don’t know,” Amelie pulled out her notebook, “So you’re telling me that this Flannigan guy is the one I need to look out for, right?”</p><p>“Right,” Karla’s eyes were glued to her commuter, “My contact said the mob most likely went underground after your article went viral, so he’ll probably be hard to find.”</p><p>“Shouldn’t be a problem,” When Karla raised her brow, Amelie added, “A new friend of mine might have some idea where he’s at. Just, let me make sure I’ve got this right before I go around asking questions that’ll get me chopped to pieces and thrown in the harbour. So, at the moment, we’ve got three major players: the Irish mob, HydraEnergy and the Winter Soldier. As far as the Soldier is concerned, all we know for sure is that every single hit that’s been his, regardless of motive, has benefitted Hydra.</p><p>All we know about Hydra is that everything important about their company is locked up tighter than the Raft and the longer they have the Winter Soldier at their command, the more powerful they’re going to get — and other than power, we have no concrete motive.</p><p>Then there’s the Irish mob. Seamus, the head, is supposed to step down within the month and his son Flannigan — who Goulson is also connected with — is going to take over, most likely making either one of them, or both of them the next hit. Control the mob, control the whole illegal drug market in the city. Am I missing anything?”</p><p>Karla scoffed, “Yeah. We have no clue what anyone’s endgame is.”</p><p>“I’m going with either power, money or revenge. Odds are in our favour for one of those three,” She said.</p><p>“But those are odds, not fact,” Karla ran her hands through her hair, tugging on it, “We can assume all we want, but it’s not going to get confirmed unless we get new information. What about your cop friend, he must have something for you. He always does.”</p><p>Amelie snapped her laptop shut, “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“You’re an intuitive journalist," She said with a cunning grin, “You know what I mean,”</p><p>“And what about your friend who unlocked those highly classified files for us,” Amelie countered, returning the favour with a question that had been on her mind for a while now, “That friend always has information for you.”</p><p>Karla looked down at her nails, suddenly finding them very interesting, “What about my friend?”</p><p>“You’re an intuitive journalist,” Amelie echoed, “You know what I mean.”</p><p>They stared at each other, willing the other to break first until a text message popped up on Amelie’s phone.</p><p>“Anything good?” Karla asked.</p><p>Amelie grit her teeth, “I have to go down to the station.”</p><p>Karla shot her a sly look.</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>Karla raised her hands, “I didn’t say anything.”</p><p>“Of course you didn’t.”</p><p>_</p><p>Sam leaned back in his chair, a proud smirk on his lips, “I got more evidence on your boy, Goulson.”</p><p>Amelie perched on the corner of his desk, “And how’s he looking?”</p><p>“Real bad,”</p><p>She grinned, “Just how I like ‘em.”</p><p>“So that’s why you turned me down,” He hummed.</p><p>Bryan flashed through her mind but she shoved the thought away. She hadn’t thought about him in weeks…ever since she started on the Winter Soldier case. She wasn’t about to start now. He wasn’t worth it. And she hated who she was when he was on her mind.</p><p>“That’s exactly why.”</p><p>Sam’s brows furrowed as if he knew she was lying to him, but he didn’t press the matter. His intuition and respect was on one of the reasons she’d immediately gotten along with him. He knew when to press and when to let things go. He was an easy person to be around and a damned good cop.</p><p>“Anyways,” He continued, “So I kept looking into your boy after that article — nice job by the way — and you might not believe what I found.”</p><p>“Try me. I’m looking into this guy for a reason,” Amelie said, fiddling with a pencil on his desk.</p><p>“His contact with the mob wasn’t Seamus it was his son—”</p><p>“Flannigan, yes I know,” She interrupted, wincing at how cold she sounded, “What about it?”</p><p>He raised a teasing brow. If he was surprised that she already knew that, he hid it well, “No need to be rude, Novak.”</p><p>“Sorry, go ahead,” She murmured.</p><p>He shot her another curious look but continued, “His contact was with Flannigan, but that’s not the interesting part,” He leaned over, “Get this, a CI of mine says that Flannigan has been making investments in various companies with Goulson’s help. Says he’d clear Goulson’s debt with the family if they paid off. Apparently the move pissed off Seamus and he elected a new heir.”</p><p>“They can do that?” She demanded, stunned.</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>Amelie paused for a second. What Sam was saying was huge. Whoever was the next heir was Barnes’ next target. She could feel her excitement growing. Karla would be relieved to finally get a break in their case.</p><p>“So who’s the heir?”</p><p>Sam leaned back in his chair, “That’s the thing, he didn’t say.”</p><p>Amelie tried not to feel too disappointed, “Does that mean it’s up for grabs?”</p><p>“You’d think so, but no,” He shrugged, “None of the lower mobsters know anything, but apparently there are a few higher ups that know.”</p><p>“Does Goulson know?” She asked.</p><p>Sam shook his head, “Doubt it. But I’m pretty sure since Goulson’s arrest Flannigan wants back in. He’s out of a title and and rainmaker.”</p><p>Sam’s words nudged something in the back of her mind. She was pretty sure he needed back in, but she doubted it was because of the article — though it was probably a convenient excuse. She’s have to double check with Karla, but Amelie was willing to bet that the companies Flannigan had invested in were all owned by HydraEnergy. If she was right, then Hydra had somehow gotten to Flannigan. You couldn’t insert a new head of the mob like a CEO but you could sure as hell convert the heir to work for you at the right price. Which probably meant that the Winter Soldier wasn’t there to take out Flannigan. He had been dispatched to find the new heir, take out Seamus and then the new heir.</p><p>“What’s going through that mind of yours, Novak?” Sam asked. </p><p>She snapped back to reality and found his brown eyes staring at her intently.</p><p>“That there’s a reason I keep you around,” She said with a cheery grin.</p><p>He smiled, but there was no humour in his expression, “Novak, whatever you’re up to…Just be careful.”</p><p>She hopped off his desk, “I’m always careful.”</p><p>“Now I know that’s not true,” He ran a hand over his head, “Call me before you get yourself killed. No story is worth it, and I’m a pretty good wingman.”</p><p>“I won’t, Wilson. Don’t worry,” She promised even though it did nothing to convince him.</p><p>He looked like he wanted to say more, but once again said nothing. Sam wouldn’t interfere. He’d let her make her own decisions, even if it led her dangerous path. He trusted her to ask for help when she needed it. She shot him a small smile.</p><p>He reached into his desk, looked around, and pulled out a small can of mace. When he was certain no one was looking their way, he put it into her palm and closed her fingers around it.</p><p>“I know you’re a capable woman, Novak,” He whispered, “Just remember that you’re not indestructible.”</p><p>His tone wasn’t condescending. It was a reminder that her little excursion this morning had been dangerous and stupid. She wasn’t a cop. Wilson’s words were a well needed reminder that the adrenaline and excitement she’d felt this morning wouldn’t heal a gunshot wound.</p><p>She nodded gravely.</p><p>That seemed to convince him and he let go, “Be careful. And go write something else incredible.”</p><p>“Will do,” She winked, “You know it’s what I do.”</p><p> </p><p>_</p><p> </p><p>The next evening, Karla had confirmed her suspicions. Hydra needed Flannigan as the heir, and nobody knew the next heir was going to be. No one except Seamus and a few others.</p><p>“If you can find and tail Seamus, you might be able to figure it out,” Karla tugged at her hair, “But it’s too risky. If you ask me, there’s got to be a better way.”</p><p>“It’s the only way,” Amelie countered.</p><p>Karla closed her laptop and gave her all her attention, “It’s. Dangerous.”</p><p>“I can handle it.”</p><p>“Can you?” Karla asked, brow raised, “Because I don’t know too many people who can handle the Irish fucking mob.”</p><p>Amelie crossed her arms, “I can.”</p><p>Karla mimicked her position, “Then I’m coming with you.”</p><p>“No,” Amelie snapped.</p><p>As thankful as she was for Karla’s help and everything that she’d done, there was no way she was dragging her into something this dangerous. No matter how much she tried convincing her otherwise, there was no denying that this plan was a lot dangerous and very stupid. If anything, Amelie knew she should have asked Sam to come along, but she was too afraid that his badge might get in the way before it had a chance to do real good.</p><p>“If it’s that dangerous then we should be two,” Karla stated, “We’ll be each other’s back up.”</p><p>Amelie shook her head, “I’m not dragging you into this more than I already have,”</p><p>“I willingly came along,” She pointed out.</p><p>“No,” When she looked like she was going to keep arguing, Amelie pressed on, “Please.I’m not denying it’s dangerous, but we need this story to get out. One of us has to stay behind to make sure it does.”</p><p>“You’re talking like you’re not planning on coming back.”</p><p>“I’m just covering all my bases,” Amelie said lightly, though it hadn’t escaped her notice that it might be a very real possibility.</p><p>Karla let out an exasperated sigh, “I don’t like it.”</p><p>Relief washed through her, “You don’t have to.”</p><p>“Fine,” She grabbed her stuff, but shot one last long look at Amelie, “But be careful.”</p><p>“I will,” She promised for the second time knowing that, liked when she’d promised the same thing to Sam, her words were empty.</p><p>“Tell me what you need me to do then.”</p><p>_</p><p>The next morning, Amelie waited in the parking lot across the street from where the bartender told her she might find Seamus. She was glad Karla wasn’t with her. This whole story was far more dangerous than either of them had bargained for, and Amelie wasn’t about to let her risk her life for the kind of story that could ruin one. Her one encounter with HydraEnergy before this had been with one of their thugs in New York’s security, and they’d given her a warning she knew without doubt wasn’t an empty promise.</p><p>Amelie hadn’t minded roping Karla into her schemes when the only threat was the elusive Winter Soldier, but Hydra was far more dangerous and far more powerful. Even letting Karla stay and research was dangerous, but there was nothing she could do about it at this point.</p><p>She drummed on her steering wheel, hoping what little tailing skills she did have would be enough to follow Seamus if he did show up. They needed concrete evidence if they wanted to get further — before Sam could do anything about it. She resisted the urge to take a sip from her bottle and waited. She’d been here over an hour already, but she wasn’t about to give up now.</p><p>Two hours later, Seamus walked out of a townhouse she never would have guessed belonged to a mobster. He reached his car, opened up the backdoor and got in. The car, although expensive, was nondescript enough that Amelie would have to focus hard not to lose it. The only thing in her favour was that there was enough traffic to blend into the background more easily.</p><p>When he pulled out, she waited until he was almost at the end of the street before taking off. She followed him through Boston a few cars away until they reached the other side of town. Amelie only spared a moment to wonder what they were doing so far from their regular territory, almost losing him during her distraction. He pulled up to a fancy hotel that Amelie knew she’d never be able to afford, and she parked about five cars behind.</p><p>Seamus stepped out of the car, adjusted his suit jacket, and said something to the valet. She grabbed her notepad from the glove compartment and scribbled down the license plate number and the name of the hotel. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was better than nothing. If she’d had more information, she might have gone into the hotel, but for now the number would have to be enough for Sam to find something. Her lack of preparation made her uneasy. Or maybe it was a gut feeling. The thought worried her even more.</p><p>Although the logical thing to do would have been to stake out the hotel, she knew she had to leave. The queasy feeling had taken over and she was beginning to worry that she might throw up in her car. She put the car into drive when a knock sounded on the passenger window, stopping her heart. Her sweaty palms curled around the steering wheel as the hotel bellhop shot her a small smile and signalled for her to step out of the car. She shook her head and motioned that she was just leaving and would get out of his way, but he motioned to the hotel, her car and then to her.</p><p>Her instincts screamed at her to hightail it out of there, but there was a possibility that he’d seen something concerning the mob. And she hadn’t come this far to back out with nothing. This desperate for information, she would risk a gut feeling to get it.</p><p>When she got out and went around the car, the bellhop was long gone and instead, a massive goon decked out in black from head to toe, waited for her. She spun for her car, but the man grabbed her elbow, dragging her with him. Before she could scream, he clamped a hand around her mouth and dragged her into a nearby alley.</p><p>Amelie had self-defence training somewhere deep inside her, but the size of the man and the panic flooding her brain were the only things she was aware of. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and positioned her so that she faced Seamus. She tried to bite his hand, but if he felt anything, it didn’t show.</p><p>“So, who are you?” He asked, head titled as he observed her.</p><p>Amelie glared at him, thinking he was stupid for asking a question when she had a meaty hand practically suffocating her. All she wanted was the mace she’d stupidly left in her car.</p><p>“Murphy, take your hand off her,” He said in an exasperated tone.</p><p>“She’s feisty, boss,” He chuckled.</p><p>Seamus took a gun out of his waistband, pointed it and her and then nodded at Murphy to take his hand off. The cool air on her face was a relief though it did nothing to calm her hammering heart.</p><p>“I ask again. Who are you?”</p><p>She glared at said nothing.</p><p>He looked her up and down, slimy gaze making her want to run screaming, “A friend of the Winter Soldier? A cop? A spy hired by my son? You might be pretty, but you’re a terrible tail.”</p><p>She tried to shove the goon off, but Murphy didn’t budge. But it didn’t matter. Not as long as that gun was pointed at her.</p><p>“What do you know of the Winter Soldier?” He asked again, “Because no matter who you work for, this ties into him.”</p><p>When she stayed silent, he sighed and looked to the sky, “Fine. Maybe if I’m more specific, you’ll be more inclined to answer. Where is he?”</p><p>“I can tell you,” Amelie was proud her voice wasn’t shaky, the lie rolling off her tongue. She needed to do something, even if that something was probably incredibly stupid, “But you need to put the gun away first.”</p><p>“You’re not exactly in the position to be making demands, lassie,” He sneered, “I could get the information whether you like it or not.”</p><p>She was sure her heart stopped beating but she managed to say, “But you won’t.”</p><p>He chuckled, “And why is that?”</p><p>“Because torture never works. I could say anything to get you to stop,” She sucked in a shaky breath, “We both know that. Your mercy pays for the favour.”</p><p>He lifted his chin, “Go ahead, missy.”</p><p>“He’s after your heir. Your son wants the position and is selling out to get it.”</p><p>Seamus turned away for a second and Amelie had the feeling that she’d just confirmed her suspicions. It was the only silver lining if she made it out of this. His phone rang and he answered it on the first ring, nodding until he hung up with an brisk ‘okay’.</p><p>“I asked you where he was, not what he wanted,” Seamus cocked the gun, suddenly furious, “If you know that, then you know him.”</p><p>She shook her head desperately, but there was no convincing him as he continued on.</p><p>“I know you don’t know my son because none of my people have ever seen you before…except for my bartender who says he’s seen you with the Winter Soldier himself. I’d have thought he’d have a more talented accomplice but maybe he thought you were forgettable enough for this to work.”</p><p>Amelie fought the urge to be sick. Judging from the proud smirk on his face, Seamus was sure he’d nailed it on the head. Her chances of convincing him of the truth was getting slimmer and slimmer. She wasn’t going to make it out of this alley alive.</p><p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” She tried.</p><p>His lips curled into a pathetic imitation of a smile, “I know you’re lying.”</p><p>“I swear!” She begged, “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know him. Let me go.”</p><p>He shrugged, “I can’t be sure. So I’m going to need you to send him a message,” He paused and her heart dropped, “Then you’re going to stay the hell out of our business.”</p><p>Amelie struggled but the goon was holding her so tight that she could barely breath. Then pain bloomed across her jaw, the world going black for a second, and if he hadn’t been holding her, she was sure she’d have dropped to the ground. Seamus’ fingers dug into her cheeks as he lifted her head so she could look at him.</p><p>“Listen close, Missy,” He whispered, dark eyes void of emotion, “If you survive this, make sure you tell the Winter Soldier that we know he’s coming and we’re not afraid.”</p><p>Amelie barely had time to close her eyes before the pain started again. </p>
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